


Our Endless, Numbered Days

by Neeka



Series: Like Puzzle Pieces From The Clay [1]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bonding, Canon Compliant, Drama, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Post-All Out War Arc (Walking Dead), Realisation of feelings, Shit summary better fic, Slow Build, Slow Burn, pre-daryl/jesus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-07-16 05:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 45,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16079837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neeka/pseuds/Neeka
Summary: In the aftermath of the war, Daryl and Paul somehow start to navigate their way through the New World.Maybe some things really are worth the risk.





	1. Chapter 1

Daryl couldn’t sleep. He was tired down to his bones but for the fucking life of him, he just couldn’t switch his mind off. And it didn’t help that one of the reasons he couldn’t sleep was lying literally about seven steps away from him.

Paul fucking ‘Jesus’ Rovia.

As much as he kept trying not to, Daryl couldn’t help but slowly turn his head, sharp eyes easily picking out Paul’s sleeping form even in the soft dark of the trailer.

He looked so small when he was asleep, so ordinary. No one would ever say that about him awake, least of all Daryl; he could easily see the power coiled tight in his body, the burning brightness of his personality. Then of course, the lingering sense that there was so much _more_ to him than he presented; like he was hiding deep, dark waters instead of the gentle, shallow stream he usually showed.

Paul was all scrunched up in sleep, lying on his side facing the door, legs tucked up towards his chest, one arm under his chin and the other tucked beneath his pillow where Daryl knew a knife lay. It was strange for Daryl to see him like that, a weird dissonance in his mind when he thought about the fact that if a threat came through that door, he both wanted to protect Paul and make sure nothing bad happened to him, whilst also knowing Paul would likely be the first one to square up to any threat.

He was one of the most complicated people Daryl had ever met and he just couldn’t figure out why the fuck he found him so interesting.

It was irritating and confusing but since the end of the war, they’d gotten close. It was only expected, Daryl often tried to reason with himself, what with Daryl moving to Hilltop and the two of them throwing themselves into the rebuilding efforts and supporting Maggie, often being paired up for work or runs. They lived together too for fucks sake, Paul offering up his couch as soon as Daryl said he’d be staying. Part of him had wanted to refuse, an odd feeling in his stomach that made him want to run, but he’d still said yes.

Sure made it hard sometimes though, especially when Daryl couldn’t sleep. He wished he could get up and pace around, sit at the table and smoke all night, _anything_ to stop his mind spinning. But he knew the second he really moved, Paul would be awake, his whole body going still and tense and utterly silent as he assessed the situation.

Paul had tried his best to be subtle about it at first, to not let Daryl realise he did it, but it was kind of hard to ignore the sudden feeling of danger coming from the bed in the corner.

Daryl asked him about it one night, as they both ended up sat on the stoop outside. He felt bad about it when Paul went still, his face getting that weird, empty, placid look to it that he only had when he was hiding something. Daryl didn’t want to force him to talk and told him so, mostly he just wanted to know if he was just bothering Paul, disturbing his sleep or something, fully prepared to move out if that was the case.

Paul had looked at him for a moment, then he’d nodded, eyes getting their usual warmth back. He’d admitted it was a left over habit from growing up in the group home where there was never a shortage of assholes wanting to steal what little stuff he had, or on occasion, beat the shit out of him. And during his occasional stints in foster homes, he’d said with a subtly darker tone, it was better to be safe than sorry.

He’d wanted to say something, but words were never Daryl’s area of expertise. He still would have tried though, but there was an unmistakable air coming from Paul, one that said he didn’t want to talk about it further, something else that Daryl recognised. He’d respect it, just as Paul always had with him, it was the least he could do. So he’d just made an acknowledging noise and carried on smoking, feeling the tension slowly leave Paul as the moments passed.

The habit still stayed of course and Daryl tried his best not to move around too much, but sometimes it was unavoidable. However, as the weeks went by, he noticed that even if he did wake Paul up, the second he saw it was Daryl, he’d relax and most of the time go back to sleep, something he’d never seemed able to do before. It was such a small thing, but to someone like Daryl, someone who understood things like that, it spoke volumes.

Still, he didn’t want to chance it, knowing that if Paul woke up and saw how twitchy and anxious Daryl was, he’d stay up with him, give him some company like many other nights. Neither of them slept well period, and it became yet another unspoken habit; the two of them sitting outside, talking or silent, it never mattered. Usually it was surprisingly welcome, that warm feeling of being understood and fucking cared about, but this time, it would be the opposite of helpful with how he felt.

Daryl was just... confused, uneasy. It’d been a good few months since he’d moved to Hilltop and other than Maggie, Paul was the person closest to him, probably the person he spent the most time with too. He hardly noticed the fucking attachment until it was already too late; too much of him would miss Paul if he tried to pull away and in all honesty, he didn’t even want to. It made him nervous, the worry of having someone else to lose, someone else he might have to bury one day.

Beth had been right, he _would_ be the last man standing, no matter how hard he tried not to be. It was like he’d been cursed, always having to be the one left to miss people, to mourn them, to feel guilty over them. He understood what Bob meant now, when he said he was the witness, the one always meant to watch the bad shit happen, watch the people he cared about die.

Daryl was already finding himself getting too comfortable at Hilltop, too integrated into the place and its people. He’d sworn he’d never do that again, not after the prison, and at Alexandria it was almost disgustingly easy not to. He never felt right there, always felt like he was the ugly, flea ridden dog that no one had the heart to turn out on its ass.

Sure he’d gotten close with some of the people, Aaron and Eric for one, but look how that fucking went; Eric died and Daryl had to watch the aftermath, Aaron hanging on just long enough for the war to end before he broke down.

Checking on Aaron was the last thing Daryl did in Alexandria in fact, before he hightailed it out of there. He’d made his way through the burnt out wreck of the place, the stink of smoke and walkers still in the air and found Aaron standing outside of his house. It was one of the lucky ones, only the front of it smoke stained and riddled with bullet holes, the garden sullied with the bodies of two walkers. Probably would have been better if it’d been burnt down to nothing.

Daryl went with Aaron as the other man finally made his feet move, grabbing Daryl’s arm so tight his nails dug right in when they cleared the front door and he was faced with the cold reminder of a life he’d never get to experience again. Not how he had it before, not with half of that life gone.

Even after Negan had been through and taken a lot of the ‘luxuries’, Aaron and Eric’s house had always been such a _home_ , so much of them put into its very bones; their weird license place collection, the pictures Aaron had managed to take after the Turn hanging next to old pictures from before. Everything was exactly as it was when they’d left, like it was just waiting for its occupant to walk back in and pick up where they left off. But it’d never be the same and neither would Aaron.

Daryl couldn’t sleep because it struck him earlier today just how much Paul’s trailer reminded him of that home.

Sure, it wasn’t anything special; just a small little trailer that got too cold or too hot, where the shower was tiny and temperamental, the window needing constant convincing to open or shut and where the walls creaked at night as the temperature settled. It was nothing special and yet, it _was_.

Because it had a weird lobster bib on the wall that Paul had a different origin story for anytime someone asked, because of the piles of books on the floor and any spare surface, because of that fucking useless red hat. It had a dish of cinnamon on the little end table by the couch because Daryl mentioned he liked the smell and a hook for his bow on the wall by the door. Their boots stood next to each other, Paul’s leather coat and Daryl’s vest hanging above them, ready and waiting for when the two left.

The longer he was there, the more he found himself getting comfortable. If he’d had to carve out that little space himself, maybe he’d have noticed early enough, but he hadn’t because he didn’t have to carve it out at all, it was given to him so subtly and unobtrusively that by the time he’d noticed, it was too damn late.

Daryl was getting... settled. And it scared the shit out of him.

His unease had grown throughout the day, every time someone called out to him just to say hello, not even for his help, just to acknowledge his presence. Every time he helped on any of the numerous projects Hilltop was undertaking, projects that were meant to be something permanent.

But the unease grew into something fierce and bitting whenever he was around Paul. When he ate lunch with Daryl, he could barely stomach anything because he was thinking of a time when he might have to sit there alone. When he watched him give self defence lessons or help with any task he came across, Daryl would wonder who else could do that job.

Who else could be so kind and clever, so gentle and fierce, so fucking _good_? Who else would smile at Daryl like that.

It had knocked him off balance, too many realisations and questions and worries all hitting him at once. Because he’d never thought about his connection to Paul before, it just snuck up on him and then it was just _there_. He’d never analysed it before.

But as he stared at the other man’s sleeping form, he couldn’t help it. He’d never noticed before, but it was different, it was something new, something he didn’t have a word for. Paul was his friend but so was Tara, and those feelings were impossible to call the same. Rick was his friend first, then his brother but again, it didn’t feel anything similar. Carol was something different too, both friend and family, a confidant and someone who he knew understood the deeper, darker parts of himself and his past. So did Paul, and yet again the feelings just didn’t match up.

It was confusing and it made his stomach twist, his heart racing at odd times and his breath stuttering. But it also made him feel safe and warm too, hell it made him fucking giddy at times, something he’d not felt in years. It made him happy and he didn’t know why.

Paul huffed out a heavier breath, his nose scrunching up in sleep, eyebrows twitching into a frown like something in his dream was confusing him. It made Daryl smile, just a little but it was enough.

Because was it really that important that he understood exactly what it was he was feeling? Or was it better that he just felt it at all?

It’d been so long since he’d had anything other than rage and fear and darkness inside him. No matter how confusing it got, something about being around Paul made him feel lighter, happier, more like the Daryl he used to be or could be. Something about him made Daryl feel okay, like there wasn’t something wrong with him after all.

Hilltop felt right, the trailer with all its odd, personal, mixed up parts felt right. Paul felt right.

For now that would have to do.

 

———

 

“Pacing at the gate like a puppy won’t make them get here any faster you know?”

“Fuck you Paul.”

The other man just laughed as he clapped Daryl on the shoulder and walked off to no doubt busy himself with his hundreds of daily jobs. Daryl knew he should be doing something too, but he was too excited and anxious to really focus.

It was Carol’s first visit to Hilltop since the war had finished and Daryl had missed her so much he ached with it. It was for the best though, he knew that for sure; she needed to be somewhere safe, somewhere she could just exist for a little while. And even if he thought the name was pretentious and their so called ‘king’ was nuts, he knew the Kingdom was the right place for her. Still, she’d never have missed being there for the birth of Maggie’s baby. Glenn’s baby.

But as much as he wanted to see her, wanted to talk to her and just be around her, Daryl was nervous as fuck too. It’d been so long since they’d last seen each other and even then, it wasn’t the best of situations. He just hoped they’d still be the same.

In the end, he did help out a little, Earl needing some wooden bolts cutting so he could tip them with arrow heads. It was easy, distracting work and before he knew it, a call went up from the gates before it was pulled open. With a nod at the blacksmith, he dropped the finished bolts on his table and jogged to the gate.

There she was, in all her fierce glory. She saw him, face lighting up with a smile he hadn’t seen for so long and then it was impossible to do anything other than run to her and hug her, lifting her legs off the ground with the force of it. She clung back just as hard and something settled in Daryl, some bruised part of himself mending as they hugged, mindless to the people moving round them.

“Oh pookie,” she finally said as she pulled back to look him over, “you look good! All clean and tidy! You trying to make me swoon?”

Daryl scoffed. “Thought only dreadlocks, stupid accents and a kingdom did that for ya these days.”

Carol laughed, she actually laughed and Daryl thought his heart was going to burst.

“Yes well,” she said, a small, warm smile on her face, “you aren’t that wrong I suppose. But just so you know, I liked you first.”

It was an old joke between them now, something so very ordinarily _them_ that he couldn’t help but pull her back into a hug, squeezing her tight even as he scoffed out a “stop”.

Stepping away from Daryl completely, still grinning, she turned to the group she arrived with and ordered them around with the ease of someone who’d been doing it for a while. She directed them on where to go and where to drop the supplies they’d brought to trade before turning back to Daryl.

“There, that’ll give us some time to talk. Think they can handle the work without us for a while.”

He let her pull him over to a secluded bench overlooking Hilltop, the two of them sitting side by side and watching their little world go by.

“So,” he began, a light teasing in his voice, “you bossin’ them poor assholes about pretty easy huh? You the Queen now or somethin’?”

“No, I’m not the queen Daryl.”

He just rolled his eyes. “ _Sure_ you ain’t. Just don’t be bringin’ any of them queenly airs around here. Might have got the Kingdom wrapped ‘round your finger but we won’t stand for it.”

Carol elbowed him in the side but couldn’t quite hide the little smile on her face. It was such a relief seeing her like that, such a long way from how she was during the war or even earlier than that. In fact, he’d _never_ seen her like this before. Even during the happier times, she’d always had a dogged tiredness to her, always waiting for the other shoe to drop, always feeling like she had to keep one eye open. Then the bad just kept on happening and she lost herself in so many ways.

Now though, now she looked like she’d come full circle and found something she never knew she could have. Her strength was still considerable but her happiness now was pure and everything had seemed to find its place and its balance. Daryl was so happy for her and so relieved. She deserved it, she deserved _everything_.

They talked for a long time, shooting the shit about what they’d been up to and how things had changed. The Kingdom sounded better than ever, rebuilding itself stronger after the Saviours had struck. From her stories, Daryl could tell Carol had put her mark into the very DNA of the new Kingdom, it was as obvious as if she’d stamped her signature on it. She’d left her mark on the King too, that was for damn sure, but he was feeling too nice to really call her out on it. Was her business after all, so long as she was happy.

He told her about Hilltop too, obviously surprising her with the freeness of his words. He’d always been stingy with them, but when you worked and lived with a motormouth like Paul, you learned how to get a word in. More than that, he actually _wanted_ to talk now. Daryl was proud of Hilltop in the end, proud of its people and what they’d all done, and he couldn’t help but want to show that to Carol. Things were still tense with Rick, probably would be for a while yet, so he almost needed for the other most important person in his life to see what he’d learned to see in the place.

As much as he hated knowing it about himself, Daryl was now well aware of his need for validation from the people he respected and cared about. Self awareness was getting to be a thing with him, Bob would have been proud.

They eventually trailed off into silence, just looking out at Hilltop together. Daryl’s eyes found Paul as the other man appeared from around the corner of the trailers, arms pilled high with two stacked wooden crates of farming equipment, spears and arrows for Carol’s group to take back when they left later. The sight made him grin, the boxes coming way over the little ninja’s head as he weaved between people easily, despite how much it all must weigh, and delivered the load onto the truck. He smiled and greeted one of the Kingdomers, laughing at something that was said.

Daryl sighed in contentment; everything felt right with the world, just for a moment. He had Carol back, even if just until after Maggie gave birth, he had a thriving community and he had people, good people.

“What’re you so happy over huh?”

“Everythin’s going right,” he replied, only slightly feeling the urge to knock on wood. “Got food, got walls, got our communities. You gracin’ us with your presence is nice too, I s’pose. Glad you still remember us peasants.”

“You sweet talker you,” she answered drily, nudging him again.

“Nah, ‘m real glad you’re here. Relieved too.”

At her questioning look, he looked down at his hands. “Was err, kinda worried. Know a lot’s changed, with both of us. Know it weren’t the greatest time when we saw each other last. Just hoped we’d still be the same you know?”

His words weren’t enough, not really. They barely touched on the deep shit they’d both been in; the way she’d ran off because she just couldn’t stand it all any longer, his guilt for lying to her, but Carol always had a gift for understanding what he meant to say. She wrapped her arm around his waist, his going over her shoulder as she pulled him to her tight.

“We’ll always be us Daryl. Nothing’s changed it before, nothing will. Even if everything around us changes, we’ll still be the same.”

Daryl exhaled slowly, feeling settled and content again. “Yeah, Paul said the same thing.”

His eyes caught sight of the other man again, moving swiftly around everyone with grace, even when he was in a rush.

“Huh? Who’s Paul?”

Daryl rolled his eyes like he always did when people seemed to forget that ‘Jesus’ was not, in fact, his name.

“Jesus.”

“Since when do you call him Paul?”

“Since I stopped calling him asshole. Sure as hell ain’t callin’ him ‘Jesus’ for fucks sake,” he grumbled, face feeling strangely warm.

“You two must have gotten close then huh?”

He shifted a little in his seat, catching the hint of a _tone_. “Yeah suppose so. He’s good people.”

“Must be, for you to actually tell him what was bothering you.”

Daryl could see her staring intently at him from the corner of his eye as he purposefully stared out at Hilltop. “Well, we talk ‘s all. Live together for fucks sake.”

“Oh Daryl,” she all but purred, eyes intense like a hound catching a particularly good scent. “You’ve lived with a lot of people though, haven’t you? At the camp, the farm, on the road and the prison. Alexandria. You rarely, if ever, actually said what was bothering you.”

Daryl shifted again, face still warm and that weird feeling back in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t really know how to answer Carol, could barely even find an answer for himself. In the months since he’d first freaked out over why he had such a connection to Paul, he still hadn’t gotten a more concrete reason. It just was what it was.

“You know,” Carol began again, seemingly taking pity on him and his struggles to answer, “I told Morgan once that I was starting to like Jesus. Just realised I’ve never said it to you.”

Daryl glanced over at Carol for a moment and saw her looking at him with warmth in her eyes before he looked back out at Hilltop.

“Don’t need to tell me,” he grumbled awkwardly, “no skin off my nose if ya do or don’t.”

“Well regardless, I do. He’s a good guy, helped a lot of people. Helped you. I can see it you know? You’re getting better here, healing, becoming more like yourself again. I’m proud of you.”

The sincerity in her voice made him as uncomfortable as the content of her words. “Shut up woman, good lord.”

“Grumble all you want Daryl, it’s still true. You’re a good man Daryl. _All_ of you is good, even the bits you got told weren’t.”

Daryl’s heartbeat shot up, his breath getting unsteady for reasons he wasn’t willing to examine just yet. It was a weird kind of panic; the image of a mouse coming to mind, knowing it’d been spotted, _seen_ , and there was nothing it could do.

Then Paul walked into view again, one of the little girls that’d moved to Hilltop from Oceanside hanging off his arm. He could see her laughing as she was lifted off the ground and gently dropped, a soft smile on Paul’s face. That little girl had adored Paul ever since he’d found out she was scared of the dark and went on a run for the cute little solar powered night lights she now had.

Daryl barely even noticed he’d calmed down, but he did notice that he couldn’t help but smile, just a bit, and return the wave he got from Paul’s free arm when he saw them.

 

———

 

Daryl was sure he’d never seen Paul truly nervous before. Even when everything was going to shit, no matter what he was feeling on the inside, it never seemed to show on the outside; he always pulled on his calm, dependable face that made it seem like he could face anything and be utterly unflappable. It was one of the reasons so many looked to him for comfort and strength.

But sat on uncomfortable chairs opposite each other in the hall outside Maggie’s room as she hit what was hopefully the end of her labour, Paul just couldn’t seem to keep his feelings off his face. And it was _fascinating_.

He was twitchy, pressing the tips of his fingers to his thumb one after the other, his left leg bouncing up and down manically, wincing whenever Maggie cried out. It wasn’t like Daryl was enjoying seeing him so worried, he really wasn’t, not even a little, but it had become some sort of _thing_ with him recently. For some reason he found himself watching Paul whenever possible, noting the changes in his expressions or body language and trying to figure out what it all meant. 

The fact of the matter was, Paul was just incredibly interesting. He was a study in opposites, so much of him contradicting some other part of himself or his ideals. He was very good at masking what he thought or felt and Daryl just couldn’t help but want to figure him out.

Which made his very open, frank, honest reactions all the more interesting. Especially when Carol come through the hall with more towels and Paul immediately locked his emotions back down again, all of them vanishing like they were never even there at all. 

Carol shot them both a smile that only just covered her own nerves, Paul jumping out of his seat to open the door for her, Maggie’s groans and Siddiq’s calming voice louder for a second until it shut behind Carol once more.

Paul sat down opposite Daryl again and immediately, those nervous ticks and worried expressions were back. Then it hit him, warmth rushing through him even through his own nerves.

At some point, Daryl had become someone Paul didn’t have to pretend around.

It made him happier than it probably should, but he really had been watching Paul for a while now, and he was never quite sure if Paul ever felt totally comfortable around anyone. He knew from experience it was a lonely place to be and Paul was lonelier than most. If for some fucking reason Paul could be honest and himself around Daryl, he was grateful for it.

It also made his desire to bring Paul some measure of comfort even stronger.

Sliding down a bit in his chair, he kicked Paul’s boot to get his attention. No one had ever accused him of being good at comfort before, but fuck it.

“Chill out man, look like ya havin’ a heart attack.”

Paul exhaled heavily but managed to stop his leg from bouncing. “Feel like it actually,” he said with a shaky grin, “not sure I’ve been this nervous...ever actually.”

“Pretty sure most people would be more worried about swanning into highly defended compounds full of maniacs to be honest with ya.”

“Probably. Just never seemed as important as this. The risks were never as steep.”

He said it nonchalantly, eyes already back on the door as his foot started twitching again, but it felt like a punch to Daryl. Any offhand mention or demonstration of how little Paul seemed to care about what happened to him always did. But trying to force through his thick scull that he was important, was _so_ important, always felt like running headfirst at a brick wall to try and break it down; painful and ultimately pointless.

Instead, he just kicked Paul’s foot again. “I’m nervous too man, especially after what happened with Lori. But this couldn’ be more different. Got Siddiq, got Carol, had you and me running all over the damn place gettin’ the shit they needed. I got a good feelin’ this time. Plus, it’s _Maggie_. Toughest person I ever knew.”

Paul just stared at him for a moment, before his worried expression melted into soft fondness. “You know Daryl, that was dangerously close to being optimistic. Best watch yourself, you’ll lose that grumpy, raincloud reputation before you know it.”

“On second thoughts, it’s all a disaster and ya can go fuck yourself.”

Paul let out a little huff of a laugh, head ducking but not quite quick enough, Daryl getting an eyeful of his smile. He looked away quick, awkwardly chewing on his thumbnail as he felt his face heat up.

It was almost, _almost_ , a relief when Maggie let out a shout so loud that it had both of them jumping to their feet and crowding the door, only Maggie’s orders that they ‘stay out of my damn way you mother-hens’, stopping them from rushing in. Silence fell, both of them looking at each other with unrestrained fear, before the most beautiful sound they’d ever heard rang clear through to the hall.

The sound of a healthy pair of baby lungs crying out their first hello to the world.

Joy flooded them, but they couldn’t truly celebrate just yet, not until they knew Maggie was okay too. A few more minutes passed, baby cries and gurgles drowning out all other sounds, until the door opened a crack and Carol’s face appeared.

Daryl knew immediately that everything was fine, nothing else could have brought such light and joy to Carol’s face. “She’s good, they both are. Maggie’s now the proud mom of a healthy baby boy.”

Paul sighed in relief, slumping into Daryl’s side, their shoulders resting against each other. Daryl leaned in just as much, something that he only realised Carol had seen once she shot him a look.

“I know you both won’t leave yet, so just sit tight and we’ll call you when she’s up to visitors. Got to clean the baby up and give them a minute together first.”

They both violently nodded their agreement, Carol smirking and shaking her head as she shut the door once more.

“Oh thank _fuck_ for that,” Paul exhaled, voice and face full of relief and happiness as he moved away from Daryl, leaned back against the wall and slid down onto the floor, legs sprawling out in front of him. With only a moments hesitation, Daryl joined him, the two of them sat on the floor with their shoulders pressed together.

“Told ya it’d be fine.”

“Yeah,” Paul said with a smile, “you did. Shotgun first hold and if you try and steal it, I will drop you on your ass.”

They didn’t say anything more for the rest of their wait, just stayed sat together. Daryl never usually liked being so close to someone, not if there was another option, but it wasn’t so bad actually. He kind of liked it, feeling his shoulders rise slightly as Paul breathed and the heat coming through his shirt. It was nice.

When they were finally allowed in the room, Daryl could hardly believe the tiny, perfect bundle in Maggie’s arms was real. He looked so much like Glenn, even at just a few hours old.

Daryl had seen Maggie fight, had seen her lead an army and a community with unbeatable strength, but he was sure she’d never looked as mighty as she did propped up in her bed, hair pulled back and face tired but so fucking triumphant as she held her baby. He was so damn proud of her and he knew Glenn would have been too. He should have been there, they all knew that, but some moments deserved to be happy, to be about the future and not the past. He was with them somehow, Daryl was sure, and he silently vowed to his friend that he would never stop protecting his little boy and his wife.

Paul did indeed get the first hold but Daryl found he could live with it, a strange feeling twisting in his chest as he watched the pure awe and joy on Paul’s face as he held the tiny baby in his arms.

 

———

 

After everything they’d faced before and an uncountable number of scavenging runs under their belts, it almost came as a shock that things could still go so wrong at the drop of a hat.

Paul wasn’t talking to him, hadn’t since just after the Incident, freaking out over them getting in a tight spot because Daryl couldn’t leave the overrun mall without checking out the baby section for a real cot. It shouldn’t be Paul’s silence that bothered him more than his close brush with death, but it was. He’d gotten used to their talks, to enjoying their time together as they travelled around their ravaged world trying to pull useful things from nothing. The cold, angry silence was new and he didn’t like it in the slightest.

Daryl couldn’t even figure out what he’d done to deserve such a vicious silent treatment. Sure things went a bit sideways, but they’d survived, surely that was cause for relief, for kicking back and revelling in living another day. Apparently to Paul, it was not.

Fucking hypocrite. Daryl had seen that prick get into more life threatening situations than he could count, always managing to come away with a grin and a spark in his eyes, but Daryl fucks up and lands them in the shit and it was grounds for divorce?

He could practically feel the contained rage from the man in the driving seat beside him, all but vibrating in anger. Daryl didn’t like it, not in the slightest, his face didn’t look right.

Paul’d said one word to him in the first hour they’d been driving, and that was only to force out a short, curt ‘no’ in response to Daryl’s offer to take over driving. The hours after that were pure, uncomfortable silence.

It was a relief to finally see the gates of Hilltop come into view, Eduardo and Tara manning the lookout. They opened for them immediately and Paul drove in, putting the car into park and all but throwing himself out of it, slamming the door behind him without a word to any of them. Then he just walked off.

“Damn, what crawled up _his_ ass and died?”

Daryl didn’t look up at Tara, just kept watching the man storming through Hilltop, people swiftly moving out of his way instead of flocking around him like usual. “Fucked if I know.”

He tried not to sound bothered, but with how Tara looked over at Eduardo and asked him to cover her for a moment before descending the ladder, he knew he’d probably not managed it. 

“Come on, let’s go sit a minute. Only got here this morning and they’ve already worked me to death!”

Daryl followed her without comment, mind still replaying what happened and trying to figure out why Paul had gone so cold and pissed off on him. They sat on a bench in the shade of the walls, a good view of Hilltop in front of them.

“So what happened then huh? You’re back earlier than you should be and sweet Jesus looks ready to crucify someone. He been like that the whole time?”

“Nah,” he replied, biting at his thumb nail, “was fine until today, was normal. Then we had a run in with a herd at our last stop. Nearly took a chunk outta me but we sorted it.”

Tara checked him over, eyes stopping at the imprint of a bite mark clear on his leather jacket and fixed him with a look he didn’t quite understand the meaning to. “Wait so, it was serious then? The ‘nearly got bit and sent on your way to the pearly gates’ kind of serious?”

Daryl shrugged. “Err, yeah I ‘spose. Got pretty hairy. Nothing we couldn’t handle though. Don’t know why he’s so damn pissy.”

Tara just stared at him again, the shook her head. “Daryl, I love you, but sometimes you are just the biggest idiot.”

“The hell?”

“Don’t even start. Go find him and talk, maybe it’ll make sense then.”

Daryl was sure he heard her mutter “oblivious idiot” under her breath, but he couldn’t be sure as he watched her walk away and resume her watch post. She had a point though, maybe he should try and talk to Paul again. He didn’t like the look in his eyes or the weird energy around him, it didn’t fit Paul at all and Daryl did want to make sure he was okay, even if Paul was still mad at him. Did he blame him for getting them into that situation? Had he suddenly developed a self preservation instinct and was pissed Daryl could have got them killed?

Whatever the reason, Tara was right, it was better to clear the air before they returned to their trailer for the night. The only problem turned out to be finding the man. Daryl both respected and hated Paul’s ghost routine, the way he could make himself disappear until he wanted to be found. It was great when they were on runs or back during the war, but he had a bad habit of using it whenever something bothered him and he needed to get away, like the time they’d lost two of Hilltops members on a group run.

It wasn’t Paul’s fault but he’d blamed himself anyway and refused to take untrained groups out again. Daryl couldn’t get through to him, Maggie neither when they arrived back at Hilltop, and as soon as Paul had finished informing the next of kin, he just up and vanished. When he’d finally reappeared he’d come up with a entire training regime specifically for runs and it had completely changed the way they prepared for them and carried them out. It became so popular in fact, that the runners from Alexandria and Oceanside were sent on rotations to train with him. As vastly improved as the groups of runners now were though, Paul still preferred to go out alone or with Daryl.

From experience, Daryl knew Paul wouldn’t have left Hilltop entirely, or at least he hoped not, but despite knowing every inch of the place by now, Daryl was sure there were many places that Paul could sneak off to. 

He spent the next half an hour searching everywhere the prick could have gone. He followed any tracks as best he could, but not only did Paul know how to hide his pretty well, but the constant chaos of Hilltop made any he did find pretty fucking useless. He’d just stopped in at Maggie’s office to ask if Paul had been to see her, which of course he had not, before he carried on through the house. There were all sorts of hideyholes in that place and Paul had been there long enough to find every single one, but no matter where Daryl looked, there was no sign.

On a last ditch effort before he went back to the trailer to wait Paul out, Daryl headed up the lookout of Barrington. It was rarely used now, the watch on the gates more than enough for their usual, everyday threat level, but it still showed Hilltop from a birds-eye view. If Paul wasn’t up there, at the very least Daryl might be able to see something that he’d missed from the ground. 

Daryl shouldn’t have been disappointed to find the tiny room empty, but he was anyway, getting damn tired of this hide and seek shit. More than that, the longer he knew Paul was hiding and stewing in his anger, the more Daryl felt uneasy. He loved to piss Paul off as much as Paul did him, but it was never serious and the thought of Paul being genuinely angry with him was unsettling.

With a deep sigh, Daryl turned to descend the ladder but not before noticing a tiny scrape of mud on the window ledge. Surely not?

Moving closer, he saw it was undoubtedly mud from a boot. He opened the window and stuck his head out, just able to make out the pair of twitching boots by the chimney, Paul laying flat on his back in what must be the only blind spot on the roof.

“The fuck you doing out there?”

Daryl saw Paul’s foot stop bouncing, a stillness taking over the only bits of him he could see, but still he didn’t speak.

“Was lookin’ for ya,” Daryl continued, “couldn’ find ya anywhere.”

“Maybe that was the point.”

Daryl couldn’t help but feel a flair of hurt at Paul’s stiff tone. “Oh, right. Didn’t think you’d... Sorry to bother ya then.”

He ducked back through the window, trying to ignore how the thought of Paul genuinely trying to hide from Daryl in particular made him feel sick. Paul sometimes reached the threshold of his ability to deal with everyone at Hilltop and would slink off to recharge, but he’d never hidden from Daryl before.

He’d reached the ladder and was about to leave when he heard a slight shuffle and the muffled thump of boots hitting the floorboards inside the lookout. He didn’t turn around.

“Shit, no, I’m sorry,” Paul said quickly, “Daryl, come on, don’t leave.”

Fuck Daryl wished Paul’s voice didn’t automatically make him stop to listen, but it did, his body pausing whether he liked it or not. He didn’t move immediately, but at the sound of Paul moving away from him, some creaking and a large, weary sigh, Daryl turned around.

Paul was sat against the wall like a puppet with its strings cut. Paul always looked perfectly positioned, as weird as that sounded; no matter whether he was stood quietly, or fighting, or even asleep, he always seemed in perfect control of himself. It was alarming that something had him so visibly rattled.

Daryl slowly walked forward and sat down next to him, not as close as they usual did, but enough to let Paul know he was there and he was listening. He hoped that by calling him back, Paul had plans to explain why he’d been so damn pissy.

“You scared the shit out of me today,” Paul finally said, voice smaller than it ever usually was. He could be quiet or soft spoken, but never small. 

“Weren’t nothin’ serious, we got out.”

“Show me your arm.”

Daryl looked up and saw Paul staring at him intently. “Huh?”

“Show me your arm.”

After a moment, Daryl shrugged off his jacket, exposing his arms to Paul’s piercing gaze. He didn’t flinch when he felt Paul take hold of his wrist and turn his arm, but he was still surprised, especially when he saw Paul’s face twist at the sight of the deep bruise marking his skin.

“If I hadn’t made you take that jacket today, you’d be dead right now,” he muttered flatly, emotions bubbling beneath his forced calm. “You’d have died and I wouldn’t have been able to do a damn thing about it. Just watch you kill yourself or turn or have to shoot you _myself_. It was a stupid risk and nothing we brought back would have been worth that. Nothing we could _ever_ bring back would be worth that.”

Daryl forced out a scoff, the heavy weight of Paul’s eyes and emotions making him uneasy. “Seen you do riskier man, don’t act like you’ve not gotten into dangerous shit more times than I can count.”

“That’s not the point Daryl, for fucks sake!” Paul’s sudden outburst did make him jump then, heart pounding for reasons he couldn’t figure out as he watched the play of emotions over Paul’s face.

“I can’t watch you die okay?” he continued, muttering to the ground. “Not you.”

He really meant it too, Daryl could see that as clear as day. Paul was deeply, viscerally bothered by the thought of him dying. It shouldn’t have surprised him, they were close and there was no point denying it, but Paul never seemed like there was anything in this world he couldn’t handle, couldn’t get through somehow. He took everything in his stride and hearing him admit that Daryl dying was something he _couldn’t_ , made Daryl’s stomach twist and heart pound.

He understood that though, he felt it too. Daryl never handled the death of people he cared about well, but he knew in his bones that Paul’s death would somehow eclipse it all. He didn’t want to question why it would, he couldn’t yet, but he knew it would be something that’d crumble whatever was left of him. And if Paul felt even a fraction of the cold, numb dread that he felt, he couldn’t just scoff or laugh his worry off.

“‘M sorry,” he said finally, “didn’t mean to worry ya, or get us into that. I’ll be more careful if you will. Can’t... can’t watch you die neither.”

Paul stared at him for a moment, before nodding jerkily, letting go of the death grip on his arm and settling down next to him.

“How come you ran off huh?” Daryl asked, breaking the silence that had fallen over them as they just breathed. “Ya usually always up for tearing me a new one after somethin’ stupid. Why’d you hide?”

Paul was silent for a moment, his hands fidgeting in front of him. “I don’t know how to explain it,” he muttered at last, sounding unsure and frustrated.

“Don’t try to then. Just talk and if I can pull sense from it then great, if not, at least it ain’t all up in your head no more.”

Paul looked up at him in surprise, those big ocean eyes softening, his face so full of fondness it made Daryl’s heart do something weird in his chest, before he nodded.

“When I heard you shout and go down under that walker, I really did think that was it. Then when I saw you were okay I was so relived I thought I’d throw up. But on the way home, all I could think about was... how much I have to _lose_ now.”

He said it like it was some great big secret, like the fact he had people he cared about and was scared to lose was something to feel bad about. But Daryl understood it perfectly, nodding at Paul to continue.

“It’s terrifying. How the fuck do people just get on and do stuff with that weight? I always cared about this place and it’s people, don’t get me wrong, but it’s just different now.”

Daryl settled in against the wall, watching the side of Paul’s face as he talked.

“I’ve always really tried not to get close to people you know?” he continued shakily, “I know they don’t stay, they never did. Got used to it long ago. I think it fucked something up in me though to be honest. Whenever I feel myself connecting with someone, something just _happens_. It’s like I realise eventually I’ll lose them so what’s the point? Then I just feel sick and worried, an awful feeling in my stomach like I’ve missed a step or fallen out of a tree. It’s horrible and then when I feel that, I know to back off, to get some distance or put some walls up. Anything to make it easier when they leave.”

Daryl nodded, subtly settling closer into Paul’s side, seeing that this was obviously hard for him to talk about but now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop.

“But I couldn’t do that this time, I fucked up. Now I can’t stop thinking about Maggie and Hershel, what it’d do to me if I lost them. If- if I lost _you_. I needed to get away, to just be on my own for a bit and try to get it sorted in my head. Haven’t quite figured it out yet.”

He looked stressed, downcast, things that Daryl never wanted Paul to feel. He understood those feelings though, that instinct to run first.

“Ain’t figured it out either,” Daryl said, “think it’s one of them things you can’t, or don’t have to. Back at the start, I used to do the same. Hell, I slept in a tent on Hershel’s land rather than get close to the rest of ‘em. Look how that turned out, they’re all family now. Would kill me to lose ‘em, any of ‘em, but I’m glad to know ‘em. You’re family too, like it or not. You’ll catch on eventually.”

Paul just looked up and stared at him before his face slowly morphed into warm fondness. “You know Daryl, there’s a lot of wisdom rattling about in that skull of yours.”

“Don’t have to sound so surprised,” he grumbled.

“Oh I’m not. Nothing about you surprises me anymore Daryl. I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re just one of a kind and honestly pretty amazing.”

Daryl spluttered, face heating up and heart pounding. “Shut the fuck up man. Good lord.”

Paul carried on smiling. “Protest all you want Daryl, it’s the truth.”

Daryl grumbled and shifted awkwardly but said no more, the two of them sitting next to each other and just being. From the way the windows surrounded every bit of the lookout, it almost made him feel like they were floating somewhere, the only two people in existence. It was warm and safe and just so damn _nice_ , a feeling of true peace washing over him.

He snuck a glance over at Paul and could tell he’d found some measure of calm too, the energy around him settling back down from the fever pitch of anxiety it’d been since their run.

Daryl would just have to be more careful now. If the thought of Daryl getting hurt, of him dying, somehow bothered Paul so much, then he’d do everything he could not to. After all, Daryl was fairly sure Paul dying would break something vital inside him, something that nothing could fix.

This was the only life either of them had and regardless of how shitty it could be, how hard and how cruel, they were both there, both living and _together_. Daryl for one, wanted that to last for as long as it possibly could.

 

———

 

“It’s not fucking funny Daryl!” Paul shouted over his shoulder as he made his way through Hilltop. He couldn’t be more wrong though, now that Daryl knew it was nothing serious, it was utterly _hilarious_.

In fact, watching someone who was as graceful and sure in their movements as Paul, wobble and stumble around, tripping over his feet and utterly incapable of keeping his balance, was nothing short of delightful.

Paul had vertigo apparently. He’d taken a hard knock to the side of his head when a bit of scaffolding came loose earlier, and since then he was moving like he’d been on the most epic of benders. According to Siddiq it was nothing serious, sometimes a particularly hard blow could fuck something up in the inner ear that screwed with your balance and made everything spin. He said more medical sounding things to be honest, but Daryl zoned out on them, just wanting to know if it was serious and how to help. Apparently it’d wear off on its own and until then, Paul would just be a bit off.

Grumpy was a fantastic look on the man’s face, it really was. Even when he was sat down his upper torso was swaying slightly, face locked into the most unimpressed scowl he’d ever seen. Of course Daryl volunteered himself to help Paul and keep an eye on him, but from the bird he was immediately flipped, Paul obviously knew Daryl’s idea of assistance was to walk behind him chuckling at the state of him.

“I will kick your ass Daryl.”

“Yeah yeah, when ya can walk towards me in a straight line, then I’ll be scared.”

He did help Paul in the end of course, his skin feeling more sensitive than it ever had when Paul finally gave in and took hold of Daryl’s arm.

 

———

 

So, Daryl wasn’t exactly sure when this... _habit_ started between them, but it’d gone on too long to break out of now, even though it made his stomach twist and fingers fidget, too many emotions swelling in his chest whenever he caught sight of something new in the trailer. What was worse though, was the fact that Daryl knew he’d started it.

The Jesus mug was the first item he’d found, the thing that started off their little routine. They’d been on a short run a few towns over, hunting through the houses for anything useful and, in all honesty, to have a break from the constant activity and press of people at Hilltop. They’d split up to move quicker, Daryl taking the downstairs of each house and Paul the upstairs, when he saw the What Would Jesus Do mug just sitting there in the kitchen. It made him grin and before he’d really thought too hard on it, he’d wrapped it up in some clothes they’d already found and packed it away in his rucksack.

He could have given it to Paul that night as they camped out in the living room of a mostly intact house. It would have been more normal maybe to just hand it over, but Daryl wasn’t sure he wanted to see what Paul’s face looked like in the candlelight as he accepted a gift. Just the thought made him feel odd.

In hindsight, it probably would have been best to do just that. Instead, he’d waited until they got home and subtly left it in the trailer for Paul to find, hopefully when Daryl wasn’t around. He’d walked back in later that night to find Paul drinking what passed for coffee at Hilltop out of that very mug, the softest, fondest look on his face as he greeted Daryl.

And so began their _Thing_.

Daryl found a black bandana with little white arrows hanging from the handlebars of his bike a week or so later. He didn’t thank Paul, though of course it was from him, instead he just used it in place of his old one. 

There was never any regularity to it, just whenever they found something, but it carried on nonetheless. A new book, some crossbow bolts, a weird kitschy cross made from vodka bottle caps, a fridge magnet proclaiming ‘Save a Bike, Ride a Biker’ that nearly made Daryl choke. On and on it went, back and forth between them.

It was fun, in all honesty. Daryl was always keeping his eyes open whilst scavenging for anything he thought Paul would like or get a kick out of. He secretly liked finding the gifts Paul left him too, liked the idea that he was on Paul’s mind.

But there was an unforeseen problem with the little Thing he’d started. As the weeks rolled on, Daryl was thinking about Paul more and more. 

In the moments he was honest with himself, Daryl could admit he’d been thinking about Paul for a while now; with curiosity, with fondness, with confusion, with a weird fixated fascination, with the intense knowledge that this was one person he never wanted to lose.

But something was changing and it scared the shit out of him.

Daryl was always comfortable being on his own, it never bothered him. Even with his family, he was perfectly happy to be around them but always needed some time alone. Recently though, he’d come to the startling conclusion that he was always glad to be with Paul, to be near him. He enjoyed their talks, their time together in silence, their runs and hunts, their nights on their roof or the bench by their trailer. He knew he could be around Paul every minute of the day and never get sick of him.

It was strange and new, to feel so connected to someone, to actual fucking _yearn_ for them when they weren’t there. Daryl had worried that Paul didn’t feel the same, didn’t want to spend so much time with Daryl, but those fears mostly abated after Paul came back from a solo trip to the Sanctuary, threw himself down on the couch next to Daryl and declared he’d missed him and was glad to be home.

They’d both ended up falling asleep there that night, even the memory of it sending warmth rushing through him. Warmth and something else, something new.

It made him want to run, but in which direction, he wasn’t sure. Towards Paul or away? To something new and risky and desperately, secretly wanted or back to the safe known? It was twisty and confusing, too many thoughts and feelings sparking through him every hour of the damn day and night.

Some days he almost wished he’d never met Paul at all, then he wouldn’t have to deal with all these _emotions_. Then he’d catch sight of the other man reading with a look of pure contentment on his face, or grinning wide with Maggie or just looking back at Daryl, and he’d want to smack himself for ever wishing to not have that, to not have _him_.

But aside from the weird, confusing feelings, watching and thinking about Paul had other downsides. One being that when Paul started acting strange around him, it was the easiest thing in the world to see.

For two days, Paul had been different; hesitant, nervous maybe, like he was a few seconds from blurting something out before he caught himself. It was making Daryl concerned, mind rolling over all the things that could be causing it but never landing on one that fit.

It was the most noticeable when they both sat down at dinner that night, Paul all but vibrating in his seat with barely suppressed energy. He hardly spoke a word to Daryl, hardly even looked at him in fact and Daryl found he didn’t like it at all.

The fact that Maggie kept eyeing them both, shooting Paul _looks_ , didn’t help Daryl’s worry in the slightest.

Finding he had no more appetite, he redistributed his bread to Enid and the last of his potatoes to an ever hungry Kal before he stood to leave, heading to the trailer for some time to stew.

“Daryl!”

Paul’s call of his name made him stop and turn, seeing Paul coming towards him, stopping before he got too close. “You going back to the trailer?”

Paul looked nervous, slightly awkward even, stood there with his hands twisting together and avoiding Daryl’s eyes. And whilst Paul had been weird for a few days now, this was taking the cake.

“Err, yeah,” he grumbled, “that okay?”

“Yeah! Yes, of course. Just err, stay there okay? Join you in a minute.”

He strode off without another word, passing the dinner tables and flipping the bird at a grinning Maggie. Huh. Something was _definitely_ going on and Daryl for one, wanted to know what the fuck it was.

As he walked back to the trailer, he tried to puzzle it out. He was fairly sure that it wasn’t anything really bad, not by the way Maggie was grinning, but other than that he had no clue. Whatever it was, he wanted it over and done with quick so Paul would stop being so damn weird.

Daryl reached the trailer and stepped inside, flopping on his couch and lying down, kicking his feet up on the arm rest. In the stillness he could admit he was nervous, stomach turning over as his mind ran through different scenarios of whatever it was that’d got Paul so anxious. It was obviously something to do with him and he just hoped it wasn’t something that’d... _change_ them, change how they were with each other.

As clingy as it might sound, even inside his own head, Daryl didn’t want to share Paul, didn’t want to lose the time or space they had together.

Fuck. What if he’d like, got a boyfriend or something? Whether Paul noticed it or not, he never had a shortage of guys chasing after him, even some damn _women_. What if one of the guys had finally caught his attention?

Daryl didn’t like that idea. And he didn’t like that he didn’t like it.

Just when he thought he was about to wind himself up into exploding, he heard light thumps on the trailer steps, a short pause and finally, the door opening.

Paul was briefly illuminated by the golden light of the setting sun and something in Daryl’s chest hitched. The door shut and it was just the two of them, Daryl’s nerves kicking up again as he tried to decode the expression on Paul’s face.

Daryl sat up, then stood up when Paul didn’t come over to drop down next to him like usual. He still looked nervous, his face all wrong as he stood in the doorway with his hands behind his back.

“You ‘kay? Look like someone shoved a lemon down your throat.”

A quick flash of a grin spread across his face, Paul seeming to relax a tiny bit as he stepped closer to Daryl. Something was still going on though, Daryl knew that much for sure. He just wanted Paul to spit it out so he could deal with whatever it was, the wait was eating him up even now, mind turning over what could make Paul so nervous, so stiff around him. Daryl was about to demand Paul get on with it when the other man inhaled and exhaled, eyes finally meeting Daryl’s properly.

“Was just going to leave this for you to find, but err, I also wanted to say happy birthday. Or near about.”

Daryl barely had time to feel the shock before Paul moved his hands from behind his back and held a wooden box out for Daryl to take. He reached for the box slowly, mind turning over and over. A present? For his _birthday_?

“How did yo- wait, fuckin’ Enid? Tell me ya didn’t get her doin’ that damn calendar project for this, she got way too obsessed with that shit.”

Paul grinned, bright and sharp. “I may have suggested it to her yes and this may have been my ultimate agenda. But a calendar is still useful and she needed something to do.”

That was true, since everything happened, Enid was struggling and Daryl didn’t blame her. She’d turned back into the ghost she’d been in Alexandria when they’d all first arrived, but with a heart full of even more pain and death. Then eventually she started talking again, started coming around people again, even if it was just to ask them what month their birthday was in or when other important dates were.

After a lot of hard work, some of his own too if he was honest since he knew so much about the seasons and how the stars changed depending on the time of year, she’d managed to come up with a very general calendar with the important dates for the people of Hilltop figured out as best she could. It was impressive really. Daryl had no idea if Paul was accurate to the day, but his birthday was for damn sure this month.

The box was still heavy in Daryl’s hands and he should probably stop stalling. When he finally turned his attention to it, he couldn’t help but be captivated by the beautiful carvings on the box.

It was sturdy and solid with a sliding panel at the top to open, which held an intricately carved ‘DD’ surrounded by flowers he’d never seen before. The sides were even more impressive, all of them showing beautiful, detailed scenes of the forest and its creatures.

“You do this?” he asked finally, tongue feeling too thick for his mouth, free hand running over the carved flowers on the lid.

Paul chuckled lightly. “Err no, wish I could but my knife skills are for killing and showing off, not anything as good as that. One of the guys here was a carpenter and I err, told him what I wanted and asked if he’d do it. The flower on the top is a Gladiolus. They stand for strength and integrity, so I thought they fit you perfectly.”

Daryl was struck dumb, both shocked and warmed that Paul thought that about him. Whether he’d physically carved it or not, it still came from Paul’s head, he’d still put that level of thought into it. It was unbelievable.

“‘S good,” he was finally able to spit out, wishing he could say more. “Amazin’.”

Paul smiled and Daryl’s stomach spun even worse. “Good, I’m glad you like it. That’s not the whole present though.”

If that was just the box, he almost didn’t want to know what lay inside. All of their gifts had been small, silly, just something to get a kick out of. This felt heavy, not physically but emotionally. Receiving a gift shouldn’t feel so fraught with nerves and emotions, but Daryl felt them all the same.

Slowly, carefully, he slid the panel open and looked inside.

Lying on a scrap of thick cloth lay two of the most beautiful knives Daryl had ever seen in his life. He placed the box down on the table behind him and reached inside, pulling out both knives to admire, breath caught in his throat.

They were sawback Bowie knives with a finger ring, deadly and perfectly formed. More than that, they were works of art. The handles were smooth and polished, comfortable in his hands and fitting like he was always meant to hold them. The blade was what really caught his attention though; there was an intricate wing engraved on the metal of each one, becoming a whole pair when he held them together, a beautiful replication of the wings on his vest.

Daryl genuinely didn’t know what to say. There weren’t words for all the feelings twisted up inside him, so he just stayed silent and kept staring at them.

“I asked Earl to make them for you,” Paul said, voice turning quiet, almost shy, “they’re one of a kind. Like you.”

He should say thank you, should say _something_ , but all the words were tangled up in his chest, expanding and contracting with every manic beat of his heart.

“Do... do you like them?” Paul asked, uncharacteristically anxious as Daryl put the knives carefully on the table. “It’s okay if you don-“

His words cut off as Daryl grabbed him and pulled him forward, wrapping his arms around him in a rough, awkward hug.

Though he had more of them recently, Daryl always found words hard to come by and still believed actions spoke louder. And for this, for Paul in general, Daryl had too many thoughts and feelings to ever verbalise. Maybe this would do though, would somehow let Paul know how grateful he was, how amazed he was at his gifts, that he couldn’t believe someone went to all that thought and effort over him. How thankful he was for _Paul_.

And more than that, he realised as his arms tightened around the momentarily stunned man, he’d done it because he just wanted to. As Paul finally unfroze and wrapped his own arms tight around Daryl, that ever-present feeling of safety he’d found around Paul amplified tenfold.

Daryl wasn’t ashamed to say he sighed into the hold, relaxing in increments as he felt Paul do the same. It was... nice. Some weird, aching longing he hadn’t even realised he’d had feeling sated. He liked how Paul smelt, liked the breath he could feel against his neck, liked the tight way he was being hugged back that managed to never feel confining.

“Take it that’s a yes then,” Paul said quietly, breathy almost, his hand stroking Daryl’s back lightly.

“Mmhmm,” he managed in response. Paul shivered slightly, the vibrations of his answer probably tickling him from where Daryl had somehow tucked his face into the space between neck and shoulder.

He honestly didn’t want to move. He wanted to keep feeling that warmth, that safety and comfort forever, wanted to keep hold of Paul for as long as he could. He wanted to-

Oh shit. He wanted to kiss him.

 

———

 

Hilltop was abuzz with activity and people, excited and nervous chatter filling the air. It hadn’t been so busy since the days of the war, but the atmosphere this time couldn’t be more different.

Daryl watched it all from his perch on the picnic table outside of the trailer as he sharpened his and Paul’s knives, the other man bobbing in and out of sight as he organised and coordinated with Maggie. They were a fucking wonder team and Daryl knew Paul loved working with Maggie.

It was a far cry from the lackey work he’d done for Gregory, putting up with the old man’s bullshit because he knew it was the only way he could work behind the scenes and keep the place running. Leader or not, he was a big damn reason Hilltop survived as long as it had, and it was good to see Paul flourish working under someone like Maggie.

It’d been two weeks since Paul gave Daryl the present. Two weeks since Daryl finally realised what all the feelings in his chest meant. He’d felt it for a while, he knew that now, so many things _finally_ making sense, but even after two whole weeks of thinking on it, Daryl still couldn’t decide what to do.

That hug was still the most peace he’d felt in a long time but after Daryl realised how he felt, what he wanted, he’d had to pull away. It was reluctant, even as he felt sick and uncertain he just couldn’t find it in himself to push Paul away. They’d just slowly, naturally separated, Daryl getting a flash of Paul’s relaxed, peaceful expression as he stepped back.

He’d had no idea what to do, what to say. Should he back off quick and distance himself from Paul? Should he squash those feelings down till they suffocated and died or were buried so deep that they might as well have?

But then Paul had just smiled at him and promised to teach him how to use his new knives properly and just like that, the spell was broken, their usual teasing banter flowing like normal.

“Know how to use a damn knife!” he’d grumbled as Paul rolled his eyes.

“You know how to stick the sharp end in Daryl, but these need a touch of artistry.”

Then the knives were in Paul’s hands, Daryl momentarily shocked as he tried to figure out when Paul had grabbed them. Sneaky fuck, he hadn’t even seen him move. Then Paul demonstrated exactly the kind of artistry he meant, flipping and spinning the knives in his hands, between his fingers, throwing them up slightly and catching them, hands flashing in increasingly quick movements.

It _was_ artistry, was beautiful and graceful and deadly. Just like Paul.

He’d finished showing off with a grin so bright and so full of joy that Daryl knew he couldn’t push him away, knew that he never wanted to go without seeing Paul or talking to him. Daryl could deal with his damn feelings himself, but he wouldn’t do it by losing him.

Over the next few weeks, Daryl was sure his heart beat would never settle back to normal, constantly skipping beats or going too fast whenever he saw Paul or talked to him or fucking _thought_ about him. It was ridiculous. How the fuck did people enjoy that? He felt sick and shaky and nervous, hoping he was acting normally and that Paul couldn’t tell what was going on. Paul or anyone else for that matter.

Maggie might know though, for fucks sake. She’d seen the way Daryl literally tripped over his own feet and went bright red at the sight of a shirtless, sweaty Paul sat on the roof of Earl’s stall as he repaired it.

She’d not said anything, just fixed him with a look that sent his shoulders rising up around his ears and his feet speeding him off to anywhere other than _there_. He kept expecting her to mention it but she never did. Then again, they’d all been a bit preoccupied.

It’d been a crazy busy past few weeks, all leading up to today. In a few hours, they’d be embarking on their first big cross community supply run. And not just to any old place, but into DC itself.

The people selected were a mix of the best runners of each community, the people who have the most to offer for the trip, and the leaders or representatives of each place. It was risky, what the were doing, but hopefully it would pay off.

All the communities had agreed that if they wanted to advance further than they already had, to grow and move forward, they needed more things, things that both Paul and Daryl were intimately aware were lacking in the surrounding areas of any of the communities. More than that, if they managed to start clearing paths to the cities, to keep them patrolled and safe, it’d open their world up even more.

The trip was meant to assess if that was possible or just a pipe dream, and if they could do it, to gain more information to use in their plans. They were also scavenging, trying to get things it just wasn’t possible to find anywhere else.

Maggie had desperately wanted to come long, wanted to get out of Hilltop for a bit and help, but she was needed too much and with Hershel only one and a bit, she couldn’t chance it yet. Paul had reluctantly promised her that if it worked out, she could come next time, both he and Maggie fully aware that she’d do as she damn well pleased but was too polite to voice it.

In the end, the group came down to Paul, Daryl, Rick, Michonne, Ezekiel, Carol, Al, Cyndie, Tara and two quiet fuckers from the Sanctuary. The less interactions Daryl had with them the better, but he trusted Paul’s word when he’d vouched for them. It was a decent sized mix of representatives, leaders and runners from each of the communities and would hopefully prove they could all work together to start expanding their world and making it better. They’d already done so much, but as Paul was always waxing lyrical about with a gleam in his eyes, they could always do more.

They set out from Hilltop an hour after dawn, the whole damn place turning out to see them off. Wasn’t that big of a deal in Daryl’s opinion but hey, he wasn’t gunna piss on their parade. If they all wanted to get up at the ass crack of dawn for no good reason then more fool them.

Daryl and Paul rode point, Daryl on his bike and Paul on his unflappable horse. It wasn’t that much of a surprise that Paul took to riding quickly, Maggie giving him lessons until she realised he had it down. Daryl couldn’t wait for the day he found something Paul couldn’t actually do, the smug asshole could use some humble pie.

The rest of their group were strategically spread out behind them; Michonne, Rick, Carol and Ezekiel on horses and the rest in the van they’d brought for cover should they need it and hopefully, to haul their finds home.

Despite the dangers of what they were doing, Daryl couldn’t help but feel a building anticipation in his gut as he and Paul led the way forward. He’d not been on a real run for a while and he knew Paul’s fingers were twitching to find new things for their community. It was a shame the Sanctuary pricks had to come along but even they couldn’t dampen Daryl’s gladness to be out on a run with the other members of his family. And the weird king was now included in that too; he’d done right by Carol, had allowed her to find a place that helped her, had accepted her in all her facets. Yeah, he was odd but he was good people.

It was a pleasant first days travel, little snippets of conversation going up and down the line, hardly any walkers and good weather. Paul declared it was a good omen with the kind of grin that meant Daryl had no clue if he really believed in omens or was just fucking with them.

Daryl didn’t talk to Rick much as they rode, still feeling the strain there, but by the time they found a good spot to camp for the night, Daryl had settled at having him around again, even giving him a nod as he went past.

They were camped out in a nice open field by the road, good lines of sight all around with plenty of time to run if need be. They tethered the horses around the back of the van and started a small fire, one of the Sanctuary guys and that Oceanside girl, Cyndie, taking first watch up on the roof of the van.

Daryl didn’t even startle as he felt someone drop into the empty space beside him, knowing it was Paul immediately.

“Here you go,” he said quietly, passing Daryl one of the rabbits he’d hunted before they’d stopped for the night and eagerly digging into his own. As Daryl ate, he looked around at everyone assembled; Rick and Michonne pressed close together and talking lowly, Carol and Ezekiel doing the same, holding hands between them as they stared into the fire. The sight of both couples made him squirm inside, feeling the way he and Paul looked just the same, Daryl both desperately wishing it was true, whilst being scared shitless of it at the same time.

Those were the two feelings he’d been bouncing between since he’d realised. Because the thought of the whole thing was terrifying, unleashing all sorts of worries in him, his ears ringing with old, hateful words. Daryl knew he’d always been _like_ _that_ , but it’d been beaten out of him before he could even understand what was wrong, then after he’d just ignored it. It was safer that way.

Funny how the end of the world could actually make some things better. Meeting Aaron and Eric, Tara and Denise, had helped, even if he wasn’t sure they knew about him. It helped write over the stuff his brother and piece of shit dad had said, helped him settle that sharp, jagged little piece of himself.

And he did know what they’d said was shit, but he still kept remembering it now for the first time in a long time and it made him angry. How dare their words still echo in him. How dare they try and ruin something for him even beyond the fucking grave.

If those were his only worries though, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, maybe he could forget it and move forward, actually try for something he wanted. But there were worse fears inside him, ones not so easily banished.

He’d never felt so much towards one person before, felt so many things he thought his skin would split open from trying to keep it all inside. He wanted Paul so desperately it hurt, wanted him to stay in his life... forever really. But that was just the thing, there was no such thing as forever in this world.

If he told Paul how he felt, if they really did become a thing, that’d be it, there’d be no one else for Daryl on this earth. Hell, he didn’t think there was now if he was honest. If he let himself have all that and then lost Paul, he wasn’t sure he’d survive it. Even now Daryl wasn’t sure he could cope with the loss of him, they were too intwined. If he gave the rest of himself to Paul and received the same in return, some part of him would die if he lost him.

How could he chance that? How could he chance that pain? He wasn’t like Maggie, he wasn’t strong enough, he’d simply just cease to be, still physically there but hollow and cold inside. The thought of Paul not being with him, not being _alive_ , was too much to contemplate. It was safer not to risk it.

And yet.

“Hey, you with us?”

Paul nudged him, his face concerned as Daryl looked up to meet his gaze. Fucking hell, he was just so... perfect.

Daryl felt his face heat up at his thoughts, thanking fucking God almighty that it was dark enough now to hide it. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “mhmm, just thinking.”

“Anything interesting?”

“Err, nah.”

Paul just stared at him with a small smirk that had Daryl’s face getting warmer, before he just nodded and nudged him again.

“Well, it’s our turn on watch now.”

He stood and stretched with a groan, back popping as he reached his arms up high. For fucks sake. Daryl stood up quickly and smacked Paul’s stomach as he went passed, grinning at the surprised exhale of breath and the quiet “asshole” that followed him as he climbed up the truck.

They were quiet as they watched over their group, eyes scanning the dark field as they sat back to back. It was so still and silent, so peaceful as Daryl simply enjoyed the smell of the night air and the warmth of Paul at his back.

Who knows, maybe the risk wouldn’t seem so terrifying one day. Until then, this was enough. 

 

———

 

The herd was huge, even larger now than originally reported by the scouts who patrolled the routes between the safe zones. It would be difficult and they’d have to move quick, but Daryl knew their group, he knew they could handle it.

With Paul leading it, they could do _anything_.

It hadn’t been as hard as Maggie or Daryl thought when she’d asked him to lead the groups who’d go out and redirect herds or clear walkers from the routes. Daryl would have sworn blind that Paul would turn it down flat, but he’d taken a day to think about it and that night, as they sat in their trailer, he’d asked Daryl his opinion on it.

He’d felt warm all over, like he always did when Paul involved him in his life choices, feeling like they were a team. Daryl had simply told him the truth; that there was nobody better for the job than him and that if anything happened to the group because of having a different leader, Paul would blame himself anyway. He might as well take a risk and make sure the job was done right.

Paul had nodded and they’d both settled in to sleep. The next day, he went to Maggie and accepted the job, asking only that he could hand pick who he wanted on the teams and got to train them himself if he felt they needed it.

In the end, he’d chosen Daryl, Aaron, Dante, Al and Tara when she was at Hilltop. Paul and her had made up a while ago, once Tara had come to terms with Denise’ death and started to feel regret at some of the choices she’d made during the war. The rest were already excellent runners, smart and strong, able to keep it together in a tough situation and adapt on a dime.

From their very first outing, they’d only gotten better, able to take on bigger and bigger challenges and win. So when the scouts came and alerted them to the huge herd heading towards the Kingdom, they’d simply got their gear together and headed off.

Still, the size of the herd gave them a momentary pause, waiting for Paul to analyse the situation and give them their orders. It didn’t take long, Paul sending the horse riders to flank the group and keep them moving along, and Daryl to the front on his bike, the noise of it drawing them easily. Not to mention the air horn in case of emergencies.

That was the only thing that ever bothered him when they were out, the fact that he was usually so far away from Paul, whole swathes of the dead between them. If something went wrong, it was unlikely Daryl would make it to him in time, a thought that prayed on his mind constantly.

Still, he went where he was told as always, having to trust Paul’s skill and everyone else’s. For the next hour, everything advanced perfectly. The herd was slowly pushed and lead away from the Kingdom, Aaron and his trusty map directing them to a pre-chosen area, somewhere far away from all communities where in all likeliness, the herd would either slowly dissipate into smaller, easier to handle groups or continue on into the empty land ahead.

Daryl was ahead of the rest of his team when he faintly heard the commotion. He turned back to look with his heart in his throat and could clearly see the herd had split off into two groups, the smaller heading towards what looked like a storage trailer on wheels pulled by horses. The dead had been attracted by the fresh smell of horse and human, a small group of people balancing on top of the trailer to escape. Daryl knew that wouldn’t save them, the dead pushing at the trailer until it tipped over, the people falling into the mercy of their grasping hands.

But of course, Paul had seen and of course, he’d be the first into the fray to help. Daryl longed to abandon his post and rush to help, but the noise of his bike crawling along was still keeping the major herd on track. If he tried to double back now, it would only end in Paul and the rest being cut of. 

Daryl still itched to do it though, even as he watched captivated as Paul charged the dead, hair up in a knot with his new sword swinging. It was a sight, that was for sure. The rest of their team joined in, the trapped people being sent into the trees for cover as Paul signalled Daryl. He needed a bigger noise to get the rest to join the main herd.

Daryl felt sick with relief that he could finally help, grabbing the air horn and pressing it with vigour, watching as the rest of the dead turned in his direction and began there slow amble once more.

He gunned his bike and moved off, confident that the herd was on the right track again and knowing the team would continue to flank them to make sure. Paul would more than likely be helping the new group, always so damn thrilled when he found people. Daryl carried on until they’d reached the point where he could leave the dead, shooting ahead of them far enough that they wouldn’t hear him turn his bike and double back.

As he made his way on a wide detour around the herd, Daryl still couldn’t help but worry over his group, hoping to whatever power was out there that all of them were okay. That Paul was. He had faith in them all of course, he knew how capable they were, but that fear was hard to let go of.

When he finally made it back, Daryl breathed easy at last, seeing all of the group safe and accounted for. He stopped his bike but didn’t get off yet, instead he took his time to just watch Paul as he talked to the new group they’d found, reassuring them in that easy, warm manner he had.

What they didn’t know however, was just how subtly they were being analysed and vetted. Nobody had ever been taken back to Alexandria that hadn’t first passed Paul’s initial assessment. He seemed to like this group though, talking to the girl with the wild hair with a glint in his eyes as they traded words back and forth. Daryl liked her guts too, she was savvy and careful, giving just as good as she got until both she and Paul came to an agreement.

Paul left them in Tara’s capable hands as she offered them water and chatted, finally turning around and craning his head about. Then his gaze landed on Daryl, face lighting up in a smile that sent his heart into a fucking state, trying to act normal as Paul made his way over quickly.

“Everything went okay then?” he asked as he looked Daryl over.

“Mhmm, got em headed the right way. Hung back to make sure they kept going then took the detour back here.”

Paul smiled wider. “Excellent job as always Daryl.”

Daryl ducked his head and reached into his pocket for a smoke, anything to try and distract his face from flaring up at the warm praise. Fuck this was all getting beyond a joke now.

“What’s with the new group then,” he asked after a deep inhale of the cigarette, “they okay?”

“They lost a member of their group,” Paul answered regretfully, “nothing any of us could have done, but the rest are okay. Gonna take them to Alexandria while you guys finish off our patrol.”

Daryl grinned. “Using ya fancy leader status to duck out of work now huh? Always knew the power would go to your head.”

“I tried to hold onto my morals,” Paul sighed with mock seriousness, “but it’s true, absolute power corrupts absolutely.”

Daryl snorted, the two of them lapsing into relaxed silence as they watched their group take a breather.

“You’re good at this, ya know?” Daryl said after a bit, “the whole leading thing. Know you still worry, but you’ve got this shit.”

Paul looked over with that soft, warm smile again, leaning into Daryl’s side just a touch. “Thanks Daryl, that means a lot. Couldn’t have done it without you though.”

Paul elbowed him as Daryl pulled a face. “Don’t look like that, I’m serious! You err, you make me braver, better.”

“Think you got that sorted on your own,” he muttered, staring at the floor instead of Paul, “not sure ya could get much better.”

Daryl’s heart pounded in the silence that followed, wishing to fuck he’d not said anything at all. Then he felt a warm hand wrap around his.

When Daryl finally looked up at Paul, he felt struck dumb by the wave of emotions that hit him at the expression on his face.

“When I get back from Alexandria,” Paul began softly, thumb stroking the back of Daryl’s hand, “we should talk. If you want.”

Daryl could hardly breathe as he went over what Paul said, mind trying desperately to figure out if Paul was saying what he thought he was, what he _hoped_ he was. A thousand doubts clouded his head; that he’d misunderstood, that Paul would never actually be saying what he wanted him to, that he was stupid for even hoping. But Paul’s eyes never lied to him now, and he knew Paul meant what he’d said and meant what he hadn’t. 

Daryl took a leap, twisting his hand until he could thread their fingers together, breathing a sigh of relief as Paul tightened his grip even more.

“Yeah,” Daryl finally said, “would like that a lot.”

Paul’s smile widened as he nodded and Daryl felt almost fucking giddy, soaking up the feeling of Paul’s hand in his. They stayed like that for a minute, looking away from each other like damn school kids and gazing out over their group instead. Daryl was fairly sure he’d burst from all the feelings churning away in his gut, but they weren’t bad, not one of them. It was freeing and hopeful, warm and so desperately, achingly wanting. He was tempted to tell the new group to fuck off and make their way to Alexandria themselves, knowing the wait for Paul to come back would feel like centuries.

He could wait though. It’d been a long time coming, him and Paul. They had time.

 

———

 

From his place in the gardens at the side of Barrington House, Daryl could just about make out the sound of the gate opening, catching the relieved smile Maggie gave him and returning it.

“Finally,” she said, dropping her tools and wiping her hands on her overalls, “was startin’ to get a bit worried for a second. Let’s go see what held him up.”

“Just a second,” he said, hoping to fuck the sudden explosion of nerves in his gut wasn’t obvious in his voice, “gonna finish these last two.”

She nodded at him and stood, heading off to the gate to greet Paul. Daryl settled back on his haunches and tried to breathe as he finished with the last two tomato plants, wiping his hands off on his pants and standing with a groan, cracking his back as it complained about being crouched so long.

Fuck, he wished he’d had time to change or something, pants covered in dry soil. Then again, Paul had seen him in all sorts of states by now, surely a bit of clean dirt wasn’t going to put him off. 

Daryl brushed himself off as much as possible, even going so far as to wet the bandana in his pocket with some water and wiping over his sweaty face. Fuck he was nervous, all the thinking and stressing from the past few days hitting him once again with a vengeance.

Paul had been held up for some reason after he took the new group back to meet Rick, and Daryl had to talk himself down a good few times an hour from riding to Alexandria and dragging him back. Whatever important shit Rick had probably roped him into could go fuck itself. He hadn’t though, he’d just waited and worked himself up so bad that even Maggie couldn’t pretend to not notice his twitchiness. He’d never loved or appreciated her more than when she pointedly didn’t say or ask anything and instead, just gave him more jobs to distract himself with.

Deeming himself as good as it was going to get, Daryl took a deep breath and moved. Nerves and hopes and worries aside, he really had just fucking missed Paul with a ache. He always did now, feeling better even just catching a glimpse of him as they both worked around Hilltop.

Daryl rounded Barrington and made his way to the gate, eyeing the small crowd that had appeared around it. He got closer and saw Rick at the centre of them. The fuck was Rick here for? And why, he thought with a sinking stomach, was he alone.

Daryl continued closer and got a better look at him; his face was pale, apprehensive. Then Rick met his eyes and Daryl’s heart started to pound. Something was wrong.

The crowd saw Rick staring behind them and started to turn. Maggie, Tara, Aaron, Kal, Dante, Enid. They all had the same expression.

Then it hit him and Daryl just _knew_.

How he made it to Rick, he’d never know. His legs had gone weak. Head fuzzy, heart pounding, stomach twisting like he was going to throw up. He knew already, he did.

He just didn’t want to.

“Daryl...”

“Where’s Paul,” he managed to force out past numb lips, voice flat.

At the sound of his name, Maggie’s face crumpled. Rick stepped closer.

“Daryl, I’m so-”

“Where is he?!”

The panic was starting to set in now, forcing away the shock and leaving his hands and voice shaking.

“There was a situation. Eugene and Rosita were heading to Oceanside to see if he could get them started with solar panels,” Rick started to explain, eyes downcast and voice just on the edge of shaky.

“They didn’t come back when they should. We gave them the grace period but they still hadn’t turned up. When J-” Rick broke off for a second, swallowing and exhaling sharply, “when Jesus brought that new group, I asked if he’d come with me to find them. He agreed.”

Of course he did. Paul had never once let something stand if he could help. Daryl always knew that’d be his downfall.

“We found em. They’d gotten sidetracked, ended up travelling further than they should. Eugene was hurt, broken leg, they’d had to wait out in a ditch covered in mud as a herd passed. When we found em, they were going crazy, rambling about talking walkers. They said... they said they’d _whispered_.”

The group around them reacted to the news, but Daryl was numb to it. He didn’t care about anything other than finding out where the fuck Paul was.

“We tried to calm them down” Rick continued, avoiding Daryl’s eyes as much as he avoided the real subject, “tried to say it was dehydration and they’d imagined it. We were starting through a town when a huge herd came. We just had to run, there was too many. And from the front, we...” he broke off, voice shaking, face getting even paler. If he didn’t feel like he was about to die, Daryl might worry about what got him so scared.

“We heard the whispers. From the walkers. Eugene and Rosita were _right_. It was horrifying, it sounds crazy but I swear we did. We tried to outrun them but it was like the herd was being led, right to us, all the time. Didn’t matter what we did, what tricks we used, they always found us, always followed us. We-”

“Where is he?!” Daryl shouted, unable to listen anymore, Rick flinching at the sudden noise. Daryl didn’t care about the whispering walkers, didn’t care about a long explanation of what went wrong. He just wanted to know.

“He’s dead.”

A raw, pained noise left Daryl’s throat, grief too big to put into words punching its way out of his chest anyway. He felt like he was going to collapse, sure there was no way to feel this much pain and still survive. His head was pounding white noise but even through that Daryl just had to know.

“What happened?” he choked out, barely recognising his own voice.

“Daryl... you don’t-”

“Yes I do!” he shouted, making Rick flinch again. “I need to. Please.”

The fact he’d all but begged, voice stuck somewhere between achingly desperate and empty, seemed to shock Rick. His brother stared at him for a moment, then nodded, stepping slowly closer. Daryl wanted to push him away, wanted to punch him and shut him up, wanted to run into the woods and never have to hear whatever he was going to say. 

No, he didn’t want to, but he needed to know what happened to Paul, as masochistic and painful as it surely would be to hear.

Daryl just... he needed to know how someone he cared about more than anyone else, different from anyone else, left this life. Left him.

“We’d been trying to get away for a while,” Rick began quietly, “gettin’ backed into corners everywhere we went. Then... then Eugene went down, his leg just gave up and Jesus stopped Rosita going to him. He went back himself, got the walkers off Eugene’s back.”

Daryl’s chest was heaving, stomach rolling, his mind a crazy, twisting, barbed wire ball surrounding empty, white noise. He knew any second now, he’d be able to perfectly picture how Paul died. Knew he’d see it in his dreams for the rest of his life.

Rick exhaled shakily, face still too pale as Daryl turned his attention back on his brother.

“We’d been cut off, the... the whispering ones weren’t there I don’t think, we couldn’t hear em at least, just the normal ones. Jesus he- he looked around, knew we’d all get torn apart if someone didn’t do somethin’. We’d been cut off but there wasn’t as many walkers behind us, so he pointed to them and the alley behind them. Then he stabbed a walker, threw the body over Eugene and...”

He hesitated again, looking at Daryl like he was going to change his mind. Daryl wanted to hit him.

“What?! For fucks sake, just _tell me_!”

“He drew them away Daryl. He saved us. He... he started shouting, getting their attention on him. They turned away from us, started following him instead.”

Everything in Daryl ached, burned, cracked. He could see it so clearly, the stupid, brave, self sacrificing prick making the herd follow him instead. He’d always put everyone before himself. Daryl was going to throw up.

“He managed to lead them to the end of the street. Me and Rosita took on the dead behind us then grabbed Eugene. We saw Jesus keep goin’, he was about to duck around a building, but there were so many of em. He went down, fell just out of sight. The dead were everywhere. He... he shouted for real. Then he just stopped...” Rick could barely look at him as his voice dropped to a pained whisper.

“I don’t think he wanted us to hear him in pain.”

A broken groan escaped Daryl, a noise he barely recognised. Rick’s words burned him up inside, like he’d swallowed a hot coal, like hell itself had been unleashed inside his body and mind. His head was spinning.

“I’m so sorry Daryl.”

Someone touched his arm but he shrugged it off. He only wanted one persons hands on him right now but it was too late. Through the screaming agony, one thought circled round and round his head.

“Where is he?” Daryl managed to choke out, “where’s his... his body.”

The words hurt, they burned and ached but he wanted to know. Wanted to see if he could bring him back, bring _something_ back.

“Daryl...” Rick sounded exhausted, pity and regret staining every word and inch of his face, “with the amount of walkers... I’m not sure they’ll be anything left.”

“Whatever’s left of him belongs to me,” he said flatly, looking Rick dead in the eye, “not the walkers. Not some empty street. Need to bring him home.”

Rick looked struck by his words, Maggie too, but they were the honest truth. Even if they never got that chance to talk, Paul was his, just as he was Paul’s. Daryl deserved to know some part of him was resting at Hilltop, that he’d managed to bring some part of him home. The thought of leaving anything of Paul out on some abandoned street to be picked apart by walkers and animals, to decay all alone, hurt almost as much as the fact he was gone.

The world barely deserved Paul alive, it certainly didn’t deserve to have what was left of him.

Rick exhaled, whole body slumping. “Okay. Okay Daryl, I’ll tell you. But you have to wait till mornin’ okay? It’s gonna be dark soon and... I don’t want you out there right now Daryl.”

“The fucks that supposed to mean?” he growled, emotions flipping over into bubbling rage so quick he got whiplash. But Rick just looked him straight in the eye with sadness, pity and deep, profound understanding.

“You know exactly what I mean Daryl, and I know how you feel. I’ve been there, I’ve _done_ this. But if you go out there right now, you won’t be comin’ back.”

Daryl wanted to punch Rick, to knock him to the floor for daring to compare their situations. He’d had Lori before she’d died, their issues at the time aside. She’d known how he’d felt. He’d held her and kissed her and told her he fucking loved her.

All Daryl had were what ifs and the feeling of Paul’s hand in his.

How dare Rick presume to know how he felt.

He was going to protest, to grab his gear and go no matter what Rick the all fucking mighty decreed. Paul was out there. He was out there alone and abandoned. Daryl had to bring him home.

A small hand landed on his shoulder, Maggie stepping in front of him, silent tears on her face.

“Please Daryl,” she whispered, the sorrow in her voice like a serrated knife to his guts. “Please don’t go now. I’ve just- just lost Jesus... I can’t lose you too. I need you.”

Daryl wanted to scream. He wanted to scream and cry and break down, to run off into the ruined world and just disappear. What was the fucking point anymore? The only thing he was keeping it together for was bringing whatever was left of Paul home.

But fucking Maggie with her fucking eyes. There was no way he could leave her, not yet. It was almost enough to make him hate her if he didn’t love her so much.

He didn’t reply, he couldn’t. He just shoved away from the group and stormed off. He heard Rick shout after him but he just kept moving, no idea where he was heading, no plan, no wants, just the need to move.

Daryl passed people as he all but staggered through Hilltop, saw them stare at him with pity and sadness. He could practically see the news spread through the people, saw them gasp, saw their shock and pain. It should have brought him some measure of comfort maybe, the knowledge that Paul’s death was affecting people, but it didn’t. It just made him angry. How dare they cry, how dare they act like this was world ending news. The only person who’s world truly had ended was Daryl’s.

The fact that nobody approached him was the only reason he wasn’t throwing punches.

There was nowhere in Hilltop quiet enough, empty enough. Everywhere was full of loaded glances, eyes on his every move and reaction as he just tried to keep air moving through lungs wrapped in barbwire.

But there was one place that was empty. One place he’d always felt safe.

With numb legs, Daryl walked to the trailer, _their_ trailer, stopping dead in front of it. He was sure he was being watched, could practically feel the eyes on him as he stood, struck to stillness at the prospect of going inside.

Their life was in there. Their home. Two years they’d both lived in there, together. Two years of memories and accumulated stuff, two years of two lives entwining together so easily and so perfectly that neither noticed or protested. It was too full of _him_.

But really, nothing could make him feel worse. He’d felt the worse, anything else couldn’t compare. Daryl opened the door and stepped inside.

As it turned out, he wasn’t quite as ready for it as he’d thought. The second the door shut and the familiar smell hit him, the second his eyes focused on the pile of unread books next to Paul’s bed, what little was left of him cracked into nothing.

It hurt, it hurt so damn much, his ribs felt liked they’d caved inwards, piercing his lungs. He couldn’t fucking _breathe_.

But he also couldn’t leave. As much as it hurt to be here, to look around at what remained of someone he cared about so fucking much, the thought of leaving was even worse. Daryl wanted to lock the door and never come out, to just surround himself with Paul’s smell and his books and his weird collections and live in it.

Paul’s sketchbook was out on the table. It was a little know fact that the man enjoyed drawing, liked to sketch the people of Hilltop or doodle little cartoons. His latest was a half finished sketch of Enid and Hershel.

The tears started quietly, Daryl only noticing their presence when the incomplete drawing blurred and swam. His legs felt numb, wavering under him, so he simply staggered to Paul’s bed and dropped heavily onto it. He took one last look around the trailer before he finally allowed himself to completely and utterly fall apart.


	2. Chapter 2

So. Daryl Dixon was moving to Hilltop.

It didn’t come as much of a surprise to Paul, not after everything that had happened with the war and Rick’s decision to keep Negan alive. Maggie had pulled them both aside for a meeting in her office to talk about it, the three of them deciding to bide their time, get the Hilltop ready and standing strong on its own, then eliminate the continued threat of Negan.

As much as Paul valued life and despite him wanting to find another way when it was possible, he knew in his bones that Negan was simply a rabid dog, currently trapped but still just as dangerous. More than that, Maggie didn’t deserve to have to live knowing that piece of shit was still breathing, not after what he did. When the time came, Paul would stand with Maggie and Daryl, he would do what needed to be done.

After that meeting, Daryl had shadowed him as he headed outside to see what he could help with, then he’d awkwardly stated he’d be staying at Hilltop. Paul immediately offered Daryl the use of his couch, surprising himself as he realised he wasn’t just doing it to be kind, he actually liked the surly hunters company and was quite looking forward to the possibility of living together.

He was just as surprised when Daryl accepted, the other man staring him out first, like he was trying to read how genuine the offer was. He’d stomped off soon after, leaving Paul staring after him with a small smile. He was an increasingly interesting person in Paul’s life, something about him making Paul want to talk to him, figure him out, understand him on a deeper level. Because Daryl was layered, that much was obvious from the get go, and Paul had always been too curious for his own good.

He’d spent the next two days sorting the trailer out in between helping Maggie, helping the people of Hilltop, fixing the walls, pretty much anything he could really. He was exhausted to the point where that bone deep tiredness actually started fuelling him, leaving him almost manic as he rushed around from job to job, person to person.

By the time Daryl finally came back to Hilltop, Paul hadn’t slept for two days straight, preceded by a week of maybe catching two or three hours a night if he was lucky. So it was safe to say, he was operating on a different plain of existence at that point.

Which was probably why he spent a good twenty seconds just staring blankly with bleary eyes at Daryl as he stood in the trailer doorway with a bag over his shoulder. 

“It’s still okay right? If it ain’t, just tell me.”

Then it clicked and Paul opened the door wider and beckoned him inside, probably more enthusiastically then was normal. “No, no! It’s fine! Just err, slipped my mind there for a second. Look, already got the couch set up for you.”

It wasn’t much, just a thick cover and a couple of pillows but Daryl didn’t seem like the kind to complain.

“Thanks,” Daryl grumbled quietly, voice as gravely as a rockslide. He stepped inside and set his bag down by the couch, looking around the trailer, probably calculating escape points and memorising the layout. Paul had noticed Daryl always did that wherever he went, was probably as instinctual as breathing for him. Paul should know, it was the same for him too.

“Do you want a drink?” Paul asked when the silence dragged on a little too long, “I don’t have any food I don’t think. Maybe an old protein bar shoved somewhere?”

He honestly had no clue what was in the trailer anymore, lack of sleep turning his memory for the little things to shit, not to mention he’d only grabbed the food that was available around Hilltop as he worked.

“Nah, ‘m good. Thanks.”

Paul couldn’t help but smile at Daryl’s awkwardness. Not that he was much better, he just hid it easier than the other man. With a deep sigh and one last look around, Daryl dropped onto the couch, giving it an experimental bounce and seeming to find it acceptable. Paul knew from experience it was actually a deceptively comfortable couch, so he didn’t imagine he’d be getting any complaints.

Fuck Paul was tired. If he didn’t get moving soon, he’d probably end up falling asleep where he stood and there was still so much left to do, there was _always_ so much to do.

“Right, well, I’ll leave you to get settled then. Got some work to do on the wall,” he told Daryl with a smile, tying his hair up into a bun, still slightly damp from the cold shower he’d just taken in an effort to wake himself up. It hadn’t worked. 

Daryl just started at him, eyes narrowed and gaze calculating. “You sure? Look like shit. When’d’ya last sleep?”

The observation left him a little surprised, he was usually pretty good at hiding how exhausted he was but Daryl had picked it up as quick as any animal track. Then again, not many people looked very closely at Paul at all.

“Yeah,” Daryl continued, rolling his eyes as Paul’s brain forgot to inform his mouth that he needed to answer, “stay here and sleep for fucks sake.”

“Huh?”

Daryl rose to his feet. “I got this. Just got here, might as well make m’self useful. Lie down ‘fore you fall down.”

To say Paul was a little shocked as Daryl brushed past him and left the trailer without another word, would be a slight understatement. He couldn’t help but feel a rush of fondness though, as well as a profound, guilty gratitude.

Now that the constant spectre of responsibility wasn’t hanging over him, Paul felt weighed down with exhaustion, just about managing to kick of his boots before dropping down onto his bed. He was out just as soon as his hand gripped the knife under his pillow.

Surprisingly, rooming with Daryl Dixon was far easier than he’d ever expected.

At first Daryl seemed to try and take up as little space as possible. He left the trailer in the mornings like he’d never been there at all, his few worldly possession staying packed and ready in his bag, like he was ready to leave at any moment, like he was expecting to have to move on at some point.

For some reason, that bothered Paul; he wanted Daryl to feel at home there, to know it wasn’t something temporary, not unless he wanted it to be of course. So one day he just decided to add some things to the place to hopefully show Daryl that he was serious about him staying there, that the trailer was his as much as Paul’s now. The first being the little hook by the door for Daryl crossbow.

The first time Daryl saw it and used it, subtle surprise and maybe even a little happiness on his face, Paul felt a warmth settle deep in his bones. A week later a bowl of cinnamon sticks were stationed on the table by Daryl’s couch after Paul heard the other man say he liked the smell in the kitchens, some sort of baked apple with cinnamon being made for desert. Again, Daryl looked so shocked that someone remembered something he’d said and actively did something for him, that it made Paul angry almost, wishing Daryl had had that his entire life.

So of course, Paul couldn’t help but do more. He was already an observant person, but he focused in on Daryl to an almost obsessive level. It was strange, but Paul couldn’t seem to stop it, nor did he really want to, always feeling so happy and warm whenever Daryl found the newest thing Paul had added. 

It took some time, but eventually Daryl seemed to realise the trailer was his too, the other man settling in there at last. They got closer as well, though maybe that was to be expected when you lived with someone so closely. Still, it’d never really felt like that for Paul before, living with someone. It wasn’t new to have to share with someone and he’d do it without a grumble, far too used to it after almost an entire life of never having his own space, but Paul had never actually _enjoyed_ it before.

In fact, it wasn’t until he’d finished his campaign to make Daryl feel at home in the trailer that Paul realised it had somehow become home for him too. Yes he’d lived there for a while but that’s all it really was, just a place to live, even with his books and weird little things he found on runs, the atmosphere of the place was nothing like it was now. He stepped into that trailer at the end of the day and felt overwhelming peace and safety, a warm, fond connection to a place that he hadn’t had since he was a very young child. 

Paul realised one morning as he and Daryl split a quick breakfast in companionable silence, that it wasn’t the new additions that made him feel at home at all. Instead, it was Daryl himself.

 

———

 

Nightmares were nothing new to Paul, nor did it seem, were they to Daryl. The other man often woke up in silent panic, sitting bolt upright as he tried to blink away whatever images of horror he’d had to relive. It was a mutual agreement that Paul left him to it at first, Daryl knowing he’d have woken as soon as Daryl moved and Paul knowing Daryl needed to just be for a moment to recalibrate. Then, once his breathing had settled, Daryl would lie back down and try to sleep again if it wasn’t too bad, or far more often, he’d go outside to sit on the steps of their trailer and smoke.

Paul would usually join him a few moments later if sleep was a lost cause for him as well and the two of them would sit under the night sky and talk, or simply sit in silence. It was comforting, and not just for Daryl, or so he hoped, but for himself too. Paul was always the loneliest at night, all of his mental walls feeling weaker, that familiar old spectre setting in and reminding him that he was all alone. Paul sometimes felt like he lived in a glass bubble, able to see and talk and move around everyone else, yet still utterly isolated.

But somehow, Daryl was slowly merging his own bubble with Paul’s and it was nights like that when he didn’t feel so alone and adrift in the world.

Tonight however, something was different. Paul usually knew when one of Daryl’s nightmares began, either already awake or jolting from his own slumber early enough to see it in its beginning stages. Daryl didn’t seem to know about it yet, but Paul could sometimes divert the nightmares before they really started. Not often and not always for the rest of the night, but sometimes just nudging something near his bed to make ambient noise or even simply humming, could hold the dreams at bay for a while.

When that didn’t work, Paul could clearly see the fear and panic build in Daryl until he shot awake ready to fight or flee. Tonight though, it was something else. He sounded distressed but not because he was afraid, more like he was just achingly sad on a bone deep level. 

It felt wrong to watch Daryl in the throws of a nightmare and Paul really did try not to, but his curiosity usually got the best of him in most situations. Throwing someone he considered a friend in distress into the mix made it pretty damn impossible for him to turn a blind eye.

It took longer for Daryl to wake this time but when he did, Paul truly wished he hadn’t seen anything at all.

Daryl was crying. As he sat up on his couch, the faint light of the moon coming through the thin curtains was enough to show the tears on his cheeks and the way Daryl rubbed them off almost in surprise. They didn’t seem to stop though and for once, Paul wanted to ignore their usual code of conduct and immediately jump into action, to go over and offer comfort. He just wasn’t sure how welcome it’d be.

The next small, muffled noise of immense distress and upset decided it though, Paul physically incapable of leaving Daryl to deal with whatever the hell this was alone. Worst comes to worst, he could always roll with a punch.

“Daryl?” he whispered into the silence, hating how Daryl stiffened up immediately. “Everything okay?”

“Fuckin’ _fine_ ,” he attempted to growl back, but it lacked his usual conviction. “Just- just a dream,” he continued quieter.

He still sounded upset, like tears were still clogging the back of his throat and Paul couldn’t help but wonder what had set him off like that.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Hell nah,” Daryl spat, shoving himself into standing, “mind ya own damn business.”

He stormed out of the trailer, the door banging shut behind him. Normally, Paul would have taken Daryl’s words at face value and left him to it, intimately aware that there were things you just didn’t want to talk about sometimes. There was something different tonight though, something that hadn’t scared or triggered Daryl, but had deeply, deeply saddened him.

Fuck it, Paul thought as he got out of bed and headed to the stove, the worst that could happen was he got shouted at again. Grabbing the glass jug full of fresh milk, Paul poured it into a saucepan and began to heat it up, searching in his now fairly stocked cupboards for the hot chocolate powder that’d been hoarded at the Sanctuary and redistributed after they’d surrendered. Negan could go sit on a cactus but at least he had the good sense to store as much of the stuff as he could steal.

Not long later, Paul grabbed two mugs and poured out the hot chocolate, wishing like hell that they had some marshmallows as he headed to the door. Daryl wasn’t sat on the stoop like normal, he was lying flat on his back, staring at the stars and smoking on the picnic table closest to the trailer.

“Sit up Daryl. Got something for you.”

Daryl did, shooting him death glares as Paul came closer and held the mug out, watching as the sweet smell of hot chocolate hit him.

“Hot chocolate? What am I, five?”

“You want an honest answer to that?”

Daryl flipped him the bird with another glare, but after a moment of hesitation, he did reach out for the drink. Paul just managed to smother his smile, moving to sit on top of the table with Daryl. He didn’t face him though, they were practically back to back in fact, as Paul was sure he’d be far more receptive if he wasn’t being stared at. This way, whether they talked or not, he just hoped Daryl wouldn’t feel judged and more importantly, wouldn’t feel so alone.

Paul was halfway through his mug when he heard Daryl inhale behind him and finally break the silence.

“Wasn’t... wasn’t a bad dream. Not really. Dunno why it bothered me so bad.”

“ _Aah_. Yeah, I think I know exactly what you mean,” Paul replied, sadness and understanding washing through him. “It wasn’t even just a dream was it? It was a good one. And somehow that hurts worse.”

“Yeah,” Daryl choked out, “that’s it. Was just, was somethin’ so _nice_. A mix of here and Hershel’s farm. He was Maggie’s dad. Lost him at the prison.”

Paul made an acknowledging noise, hoping Daryl would continue to talk. It helped sometimes, to say them out loud, to really feel them and then let them go.

“We were all there and everythin’ was good. Everyone we lost, they were all just _there_ , like they never left. Maggie had her family back, everyone just so damn happy for her and Glenn. Beth, she was there... just as sweet as ever. She sang.”

His voice cracked on her name. Paul knew she was Maggie’s sister, that she’d been with Daryl after the prison fell and that she’d died before Maggie ever got to talk with her again. He could tell she was important to Daryl, that she was a sore point in his past. Paul desperately wanted to know more, his curiosity almost getting the better of him, but the sadness in Daryl’s voice was too much for him as it was. He’d rather stab himself in the foot than bring anymore pain to him.

“Sasha was with Abe and Carl was playin’ with Judith, safe and alive like he fuckin’ should be. Knew that kid from the start you know? He used to get on my bike when he thought I weren’t lookin’, no matter how many times his momma told him not to. Shouldn’t’a died that young. Just weren’ right.”

Paul wished he’d known the people Daryl spoke of, or known them better, there was such obvious love there, the memories painful but beloved all the same. Carl in particular was somebody he’d have liked to know more, there wasn’t many who could pull the wool over his eyes after all.

He heard a quiet sniff and knew Daryl was probably crying again. Paul never liked to see anybody in distress, always doing anything he could to stop it or help, but it felt different with Daryl, much like it did with Maggie. It’d only been a month or two since Daryl started living with him, but Paul already felt close to the other man, wanting him to feel safe and happy, to feel welcomed into the community and to give him a space to heal. But the feeling welling up in his chest now surprised him; it was sheer, undiluted protectiveness, like he wanted to make sure nothing bad ever happened to him again. Hell, if he could, he’d go back into Daryl’s fucked up life and destroy everything before it could ever touch him.

Paul just genuinely wanted Daryl to be happy, to find comfort and peace.

Daryl usually kept a strict personal space bubble around himself, but maybe tonight Paul could chance it. He settled further back on the table until his back was lightly touching Daryl’s, hoping it’d somehow let him know that Paul was there, that he was with him. From the way Daryl ever so slightly leaned back into it, Paul thought that he understood.

“Just wish it was real, is all,” Daryl muttered after a moment, “they deserve that, all of em. It’s a shit life and it takes everythin’ good, everythin’ we care about.”

Paul sighed heavily, sadness for himself joining the sadness he felt for Daryl.

“Yeah,” he said, voice quiet and solemn, “it _is_ shit Daryl. It’s cruel and unfair but it’s the only life we’ve got in the end. The fact that it hurts just shows that you cared for them, that they were important enough to feel that pain for. Dreams like that, they’re worse than the horror. You get used to that, same old shit, different day. Then something like that reminds you of how good it _should_ be. I think they’re important though, I think they let us feel, just for a second, that everything’s okay. Hurts worse when we wake up but at least for a moment, we had the good back and we could remember them without that pain.”

“Yeah,” Daryl said after a beat, “guess so.”

They didn’t speak again after that, just sat and watched the stars wheeling overhead, only moving again once the sky began to burst into the pastel watercolours of dawn and the early risers of Hilltop began to emerge.

Paul couldn’t offer much to Daryl, couldn’t erase his pain no matter how much he wanted to, but at least he could offer company, someone to lean back on. And maybe Daryl could do that for him too.

 

———

 

Of all the things Paul expected to see as he returned to the school, Daryl Dixon sat on the ground surrounded by a mass of the Kingdom’s children, was not one of them.

Paul stopped short, shock fading into pure delight as he watched. There were two little girls stood behind Daryl, carefully splitting his hair into bunches and tying them off with electric blue hair ties. They also seemed to feel the need to put some butterfly clips in there for good measure, a noble choice in Paul’s opinion. His left arm had been kidnapped by a boy missing both of his front teeth as he happily drew all over it, strange patterns mixing with robots and dogs and dinosaurs. The fact that it was in permanent marker only increased Paul’s unabashed joy. The other three kids were drawing on actual paper, holding them up every now and then for Daryl’s approval.

For the first time since the world ended, Paul wished to God he had a camera. Then again, some moments were too pure even for that, meant to only ever be kept in cherished memories.

Still, he was sure a lot of people would have got a fuck load of joy after Paul printed out multiple versions of the picture and spread it to every inch of civilisation they had left.

“Mr Jesus!”

One of the little girls, Susie if he remembered correctly, moved away from her position as Daryl Dixon’s personal hairdresser and ran over to him, grabbing his hand in a surprisingly tight grip and babbling all the while. It wasn’t until the kids moved and he was all but shoved down next to Daryl, that Paul realised he should have run when he had the chance.

Paul winced as the girls immediately pounced on his hair, tugging it none to gently out of his bun and all but squealing in delight. He wasn’t proud to say that he looked around in abject terror for any scissors lying around. Thankfully, it seemed like wonky bunches and butterfly clip accessories were the name of the game for today.

Still, seeing Daryl’s new look up close was worth it, the threatening death glare he was sent only topping it off.

“You know what Daryl, that’s a really good look on you.”

“Not a word.”

“Seriously! Not everyone can work glittery butterflies but you really have the bone structure to carry it off.”

“Keep at it and I’ll tell the girls where the scissors are.”

Paul couldn’t keep the grin off his face, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. Even as he winced whenever the girls pulled at his hair, he couldn’t help but relax, the gentle activity of the Kingdom and the sunshine on his face filling him with peace.

More than that, it was always a privilege and a delight to see Daryl around kids. Even though Paul knew by now after nearly a year of living together that Daryl was hiding an incredibly soft centre, it never showed as much as when he was around children.

Little Hershel was already obsessed with him and whenever Daryl was around Judith, their incredible bond was clear to see. It seemed he’d already charmed the hell out of every child in the Kingdom as well now and had subtly been appointed child minder by their parents and guardians.

Paul watched, charmed as fuck himself, as Daryl quietly and genuinely appraised each drawing held in front of him, obediently turned and tilted his arm so the empty spaces of skin could be filled and listened to the girls behind Paul tell him all about the lessons they were having.

Paul found himself wondering if Daryl had ever wanted kids. It came so easily to him, gruff patience and gentleness overcoming him any time he was around a little one, always wiling to act as a climbing frame or impromptu canvas. It was utterly adorable in all honesty. Still, the thought of Daryl wanting kids, wanting a _family_ even, made him feel odd; uneasy or melancholy or something else entirely. 

Pushing away the feeling, Paul just let himself enjoy the moment, a rare, pure spec of sand in the shitstorm hourglass of their current world. Even in the current peace, times like this weren’t always guaranteed and it was a joy to simply soak it up, listening to Daryl’s gravelly voice explain about the different animals in the woods, describing them for the kids to try and draw.

And when the youngest kid decided to abandon his drawings for a nap, crawling into Daryl’s lap to do so, Paul was man enough to admit he may have died a little inside, physically and mentally incapable of handling anything so fucking adorable. He couldn’t stop staring at Daryl’s fond, soft face, as he let the little boy get comfortable, settling his free arm over his back.

Yeah, today was a good day.

 

———

 

It happened in a split second; in one horrifying, suspended moment of time, the world ended. The walker was just _there_ , was lunging for Daryl and Paul knew in his bones that he couldn’t get there in time, couldn’t save him. It knocked Daryl down, Paul calling his name, his heart stopping at Daryl’s pained grunt.

Paul’s world felt like it’d ground to a halt, mind going fuzzy as he destroyed the walkers separating them in his anger, not caring if he got too close as he kicked and pushed and stabbed, getting to Daryl’s side in time to see him manage to stick a knife through the walkers scull, the body going prone on top of him.

Paul reached out and dragged the heavy walker off him, wanting to stomp it to pieces but knowing nothing would make a difference. He could hardly breathe, unable to make himself look at Daryl yet as the other man stood up, knowing he had to get some level of control over himself before he saw where Daryl was bit, before he saw him hurt and bleeding and fucking dying. Daryl didn’t deserve to have to deal with his breakdown.

“Fuckin’ heavy piece of shi- hey, you okay? Paul?”

No he wasn’t, he wasn’t at all, but he had to be there now, for Daryl. He could fall apart later.

Paul looked at Daryl, ignoring his worried expression as he finally checked him over, eyes roaming over his body as he braced himself.

“Paul? The fuck’s the matter man?”

There was no blood. There was no blood and no bite. _Nothing_. Just the imprint of teeth marks on the new jacket Paul had all but wrestled Daryl into the morning they departed.

He felt the floor tilt a little under him. Daryl was fine, he was okay, Paul wasn’t going to have to attempt an amputation or watch him die. Daryl was _alive_ and the relief he felt almost floored him.

Then the relief was drowned out by cold, sickly, paralysing anger. Daryl nearly fucking died for a God damn cot, for some pointless shit they could get later or somewhere else, but no, Daryl just couldn’t leave it. He couldn’t stand the thought of Hershel having to sleep in an old draw, couldn’t stand not helping Maggie give him the best. As if Paul having to go back and tell her Daryl was dead wouldn’t destroy her. Daryl had known that travelling deeper into the overrun mall was dangerous but he just didn’t care, didn’t listen to Paul when he said it wasn’t worth the risk.

Daryl could have fucking _died_.

Paul didn’t say anything, he couldn’t, just grabbed the box Daryl nearly got bit for and shoved it in his arms, turning around and storming out the way they’d just cleared. He almost wished some more of the dead would come, just so he could work his frustration out on them. It would probably be a bad idea though, what with the way his vision was fuzzy and his limbs were shaking uncontrollably.

It wasn’t until he was sat in the car, deciding without even consulting Daryl that they’d be going straight home, that he finally let the full weight of what he’d felt hit him.

When he saw Daryl go down, when he thought he’d been bitten, Paul was more scared than he’d ever been before in his life. He’d seen a lot of people taken by the walkers, seen them ripped apart right in front of him, unable to help them no matter what he did, but it had never hit him as hard as what just happened.

Somehow, Daryl had become someone he simply never wanted to lose, someone whose death would kill something in him.

And it wasn’t just Daryl. Paul had so much more to lose now, the risk of suffering so much higher now that he’d let people in. He had Maggie and Hershel, his best friend and sister, someone else he couldn’t imagine life without. Fuck, there was a whole _community_ now that he cared for on an entirely different level than he did before. 

It had slipped his notice, all of it, right until the moment he thought Daryl Dixon was dead.

There were more thoughts and feelings in his head than he knew what to do with, questions that now had answers he refused to examine whilst stuck in a car with Daryl for the next few hours. He locked them away, stayed silent and focused on his anger. It was all that was keeping him together.

How dare Daryl make him care so fucking much and then risk himself like that. Didn’t he understand what that meant?

Paul didn’t allow himself to truly think or feel until he’d snuck through Hilltop and climbed through the window of Barrington’s look out, lying himself down in the only spot on the roof that couldn’t be seen from the ground. Hopefully that would be enough to ensure his solitude for a while. 

All alone, far above everyone else with nothing between him and the sky, Paul finally let it hit him. Finally let himself to accept the feeling that had been growing inside him for a while, twisting itself around his bones like climbing roses.

Paul wanted Daryl. Wanted him more than anything he’d ever felt. He wanted his small smiles, he wanted his quiet, unobtrusive ways of caring, he wanted his company and insights, he wanted _everything_. Forever.

It’d snuck up on him, one of the first things in life to have done so. Daryl fit so easily from a stranger Paul was oddly fascinated by, to an acquaintance he wanted to help fit in, to a friend he desperately wanted to protect and make happy. Seems he’d also turned into something else too. 

Because somewhere, somehow, he might have just gone and fallen in love with Daryl Dixon. 

Fuck.

 

———

 

Daryl _hated_ the Sanctuary, everyone in every community knew that. It was probably one of the constants of the universe actually; water was wet, walkers wanted to eat you and Daryl Dixon hated the Sanctuary with every fibre of his being.

Knowing that, Paul eagerly accepting the trade run heading there was probably an unexpected move, judging by the surprise and displeasure on Maggie’s face. Paul and Daryl did most of their runs and trade trips together these days and had for a while. She’d told him Daryl wouldn’t go and that Paul shouldn’t ask him to, to which he’d reassured her he’d never do that and he’d be going alone.

Maggie was a sharp woman and knew him well, second only to Daryl, but she mercifully didn’t comment, just gave him a _look_ before putting him down for the trip. Paul was so relieved he could have hugged her, smothering that urge because even her kind nature couldn’t purposefully ignore that, before heading out to get his gear.

Daryl hadn’t been best pleased when Paul had told him, a haunted look in his eyes that filled Paul with guilt. Daryl was quiet as Paul gathered his things, offering a quick, preoccupied goodbye before Paul left and headed for the gate.

The churning guilt stayed with Paul for his entire journey, mixing in with the rest of the feelings nauseatingly swirling around in his gut. It was all too much for him, messing with his sleep and his appetite, his very peace of mind. Paul just needed some time alone, some time to figure out when the fuck his feelings for Daryl started and how to get rid of them.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want them or didn’t want to care for Daryl like he did, it was just that he knew it was pointless, knew that it’d only end in pain no matter what. The feelings were too dangerous to keep, too distracting and raw. He could barely concentrate on anything since the realisation up on the roof and if he let it go on any longer, it would become very obvious.

But really, he shouldn’t have been surprised. Who else was he ever going to fall for?

Daryl was an absolute singularity, the kind of person that simply should not exist. Paul had never known that someone could go through all the shit Daryl had and still come out kind. A little broken, a little rough around the edges, his fear and instincts sometimes getting the better of him, but at the heart of him, he was just so _good_. Paul saw it all the time now, the other man’s gentleness coming out in odd and unexpected ways.

Like how he always made sure Paul remembered to eat or sleep and listened to him when he talked, or how he checked that Maggie was doing okay and babysat Hershel if she needed the break. It was how he’d go and sit in silence with Aaron when the man got a particular lost look on his face. And whether Daryl was aware of it or not, he’d become a much loved figure at Hilltop, his ever surly nature no longer putting people off, instead it was just part of what made Daryl so special.

More than that, he just seemed to understand Paul, something he never thought anyone could truly do. Ever since he could remember, Paul always felt separate from everyone, whether through his own self preservation instincts or because of something else, he never quite fit with any group or any person. He could put on any face needed to blend in, but even when he was surrounded by people, he knew deep down he never really fit. He’d long ago resigned himself to that bone deep loneliness. 

Daryl was the first person he felt truly at ease with, the first and only person he could actually be himself around. Maggie was a close second but even she didn’t get him quite like Daryl did, the other man seeming to recognise and know the dark, aching, bruised parts of himself that he kept hidden and not even batting an eye. Like really did call to like it seemed.

Paul’s arrival at the Sanctuary thankfully distracted him for a good few hours, helping the reformed Saviours and other assorted members of the communities on rotation there. It was easy, busy work, something Paul desperate needed and he took advantage of it, staying longer than he necessarily needed to as he worked and talked. By the time he even stopped to look up, he saw that it was late afternoon, the sun turning golden as it began its descent.

“You staying for the night Jesus? Surely not even _you_ should chance travelling alone at night.”

Paul looked over at one of the old Saviour points workers, a guy called Eli he’d seen around before and had been working with all day, trading banter and conversation easily.

“Oh I don’t know,” he replied, shooting him a grin, “done it plenty of times before.”

“Ahh yes,” Eli said remorsefully, eyes twinkling, “I’m sorry, I forgot you were a whole different level of badass.”

“I’ll forgive you. This time.”

They stood there grinning at each other for a moment before Eli stepped forward and an odd, knowing feeling started up in Paul’s stomach.

“You should stay,” Eli started, voice low. Flirty. “Have dinner, chat. Sure we could find you somewhere to sleep...”

A flickering of want stirred in him and it struck Paul then that he _could_ stay, that he had no obligations, nobody waiting on him. He could quite easily spend the night with this actually very attractive guy, have some fun and just not think for a while.

Maybe it was just what he needed in fact, he thought with increasing conviction, something to get his mind off of Daryl. Who knows, maybe his little crush was just because he was craving some human contact. A little no strings attached fun and his feelings for Daryl might turn out to be nothing at all.

The thought was like cold water dropping all over him and Paul felt deeply, profoundly ashamed. He wanted to apologise to Daryl for even thinking that in the privacy of his own head. Because Paul wasn’t an idiot; he was purposely oblivious sometimes, often shoving feelings into a box in his mind so he didn’t have to deal with them, but it was rare he tried to write them off as something so much less than they were.

Paul sighed, the flirty smile falling off his face, making him feel sick that he’d even considered it. “Sorry Eli, I’ve got to get home.”

He took it well, to his credit, smile turning rueful as he scratched the back of his head. “Ah okay, should have guessed you had someone.”

“It’s not that,” Paul replied, feeling uncharacteristically awkward and lost for words, “not exactly. It’s...”

“Complicated,” Eli finished for him, Paul shooting him a small smile as he nodded.

“Yeah, complicated.”

They stood in far more comfortable silence for a second before Eli started to step back. “Well, best get going then, even if you are a badass. And err, good luck. With your, you know, complicated thing.”

“Thanks, see you around.”

Paul smiled and turned to leave, feeling a touch of fondness for the guy. Maybe even a little gratitude too, he’d helped Paul sort some shit out after all.

The ride back to Hilltop was easy but felt like it took an age, the slowly darkening sky making him want to be back in the trailer, warm and comfortable and _home_. It made him want to be with Daryl. Because yeah, the feelings were still fucking terrifying, still made the urge to run and protect himself well up inside of him, knowing that in the highly unlikely event that Daryl somehow did feel the same, there was very rarely a happy ending to be had nowadays. Despite all that though, Paul just fucking longed for Daryl, to just be near him or with him in whatever way he could.

Blissful ignorance had hid it before, or maybe just his own emotional inexperience, but Paul truly did yearn for Daryl. He wanted to be around him, even if they never spoke a single word to each other. There had never been anyone like that for Paul before, someone he knew he just couldn’t be without. He learned very early that nobody could be counted on to stay, that there was no such thing as permanence so he should just learn to get by alone, but ever since Daryl moved to Hilltop, something had slowly changed inside him.

It was like Daryl had become his new North, the one true, fixed point, guiding him forwards or leading him home.

He made it back to Hilltop not long after dark, deciding reporting to Maggie could wait for the morning. He just wanted to be back in the trailer, _their_ trailer. When he finally opened the door he saw Daryl in sweatpants and a baggy top, lying down on the couch reading one of Paul’s books, looking up in surprise as the door opened.

“Thought you must have stayed the night,” he said quietly, subtly checking Paul over like he always did when he’d been out alone. The concern made his heart fucking flutter.

Paul shed his coat and hung it next to Daryl’s vest, removed his boots and set them underneath with Daryl’s muddy pair. Then he walked over to the couch, grabbed the ends of Daryl’s sweatpants covered legs and lifted them up, ignoring Daryl’s noise of surprise as he sat in the vacated space. He let Daryl’s legs drop, settling them over his lap as he relaxed into the ugly but damn comfortable couch, exhaling as everything felt right with the world.

“Guess I just missed you Daryl. I’m glad to be home.”

He shot a glance at Daryl’s face and saw a brief flash of unguarded surprise and fondness, maybe even relief. Paul felt warm and pleased all over, grinning when Daryl grumbled about missing having the couch to himself.

He didn’t move though, didn’t pull his legs back or kick at Paul till he surrendered and vacated the spot like he had in the past. Instead, the two of them just stayed like that, the warm, comfortable atmosphere of their home surrounding them, Paul feeling like there was nowhere on earth he’d rather be and no one he’d rather be with.

He could feel himself drifting off to sleep, could see Daryl’s eyes dropping too. Still neither of them moved, too comfortable and content, the flickering candles burning low and dim. Paul fell asleep with a hand on Daryl’s ankle, warm and safe next to the one person who he wanted to be with over all others. He was still terrified, still uncertain and conflicted as all hell about what to do. But even with all that, whatever happened in the future, he’d still have had _this_.

 

———

 

It was his own fault, Paul knew that. He’d gone too far with the present, been too obvious maybe. Gifts were hardly the thing to do in the current world anyway, birthdays and holidays all falling by the wayside. It was _Daryl_ though, and Paul couldn’t help himself, not after he’d found that Jesus mug in the trailer.

It wasn’t often that Paul was well and truly surprised, but seeing that silly little mug left innocuously on the countertop really had shocked him to stillness, staring at the thing like he’d imagined it. Surely he had, because there was only one possible person who could have found and left it, and surely that person would never do something like that?

But he had. At some point, for some reason, Daryl had seen a simple What Would Jesus Do mug and decided it was something he wanted Paul to have, knowing he’d get a kick out of it. And Paul had; a bright, wild grin spreading over his face as he’d picked it up and looked it over, the bright colours and cheekily painted Jesus making him chuckle.

He’d never really been given gifts before and the fact that Daryl had looked at it and thought of him made Paul feel lighter than air.

He hadn’t said anything to Daryl, he assumed that was the whole point of just leaving it for him to find, not to mention the fact he literally had no idea what to say about it. Instead he’d just drank from it that evening, noting the way Daryl immediately spotted it, the corners of his mouth upturning ever so slightly, warming Paul more than any shitty coffee ever could.

Of course, Paul was never one to leave any good deed unpunished, finding a bandana with arrows on it about two weeks later and gleefully leaving it on Daryl’s bike. He too had to suppress a grin as he saw that Daryl had swapped it for his usual black one, every sighting of it making him happy.

It’d carried on for weeks and weeks, always alternating on their odd little gifts and never saying a single word to the other about it. But as the weeks went on and Paul’s stubborn feelings grew, it just didn’t seem enough anymore, he wanted to do something real for Daryl, to gift him something with deeper feelings behind it. 

He was so fucking stupid. Why would he do that to himself?

It wasn’t hard to get Enid occupied on the idea of creating a calendar and it was even easier to find out Daryl’s birthday, sheer joy erupting in him as he realised it was only a month away. Plenty of time for something special.

But no matter where he looked, what houses or shops he scavenged in, nothing spoke to him, nothing looked like it belonged with Daryl. The answer came when he saw Daryl take out his old, well used knife and dispatch some walkers with it whilst they were out on a run. It suddenly struck Paul just how long Daryl had gone without using his gun, preferring to stick with his bow or knives now.

Looking down at his own dual knives, the answer was obvious, plans and designs already springing to mind. He’d approached Earl later that day and hashed out what he wanted, the quiet man shooting him a pointed look when Paul told him who it was for. Purposefully ignoring it, Paul thanked him, surprised when the blacksmith said he’d do it for free, warmed when Earl said Daryl deserved it for all he did. Paul still promised to fix the blacksmith’s roof regardless. 

The idea of the box came to him a few days later, wanting something special to hold the knives, something that was also one of a kind. He’d sketched the designs out himself, wanting the sides to be sprawling images of the woods that Daryl so loved, the man often disappearing into them like they were his natural habitat.

The lid was self indulgent, Paul knowing that Daryl wouldn’t understand the meaning of the flowers. Not all of them at any rate, not the one he didn’t tell him.

Gladiolus; representing strength, integrity and infatuation.

It wasn’t enough, wasn’t even half of what he felt, but it’d do for now.

When he finally saw the finished product, he was struck silent, numbly taking in the pure artistry of it. He’d thanked Bobby profusely, also ignoring his far too knowing smile, before he’d taken it and hidden it in Maggie’s room, knowing Daryl could far too easily come across it in their tiny trailer.

Paul could see she was dying to say something, especially when he added the new knives to the box, hardly able to believe how beautiful they were, but she’d let him get away with simply saying it was a birthday present. There was a reason she was his best friend, though Paul knew the silence wouldn’t last forever, not with the looks and smirks she’d shot him at dinner the night of Daryl’s birthday.

If he’d known what was going to happen, maybe he’d have stuck with something silly instead. Because Paul’s feelings were his to deal with and it was getting easier, perfectly content to keep them to himself, for them to be one sided.

He wasn’t ready for the way Daryl had hugged him, wasn’t ready for the way they’d both folded into the embrace like a stack of cards, Paul recovering from his shock and melting into it, feeling warm and safe and so much aching want. He certainly wasn’t ready for the split second of pure emotion he saw on Daryl’s face as they separated.

Because Paul wasn’t a stupid man, or an oblivious one, not really. He might pretend sometimes, for his own sanity if anything, but some things he couldn’t lie about, not even to himself. And he saw something in Daryl’s eyes, something he recognised, something that he felt himself.

It’d scared him, instantly feeling relieved when Daryl moved away even as some part of him wanted to drag Daryl back, wanted to hold onto him forever. To cover his emotional freak out, Paul pulled on his usual teasing face, showing off with the knives, trying his best to disguise the fact that his heart was pounding so fast he was sure Daryl could hear it, could feel how it wanted to burst out of his chest. 

That wasn’t even the end of it all, not really, the following week an emotional obstacle course from hell that Paul bounced through with all the grace of an elephant on rollerblades. He was not meant for this emotional shit, it was too much for him, too new and raw. He was a reserved person, everyone could see that, but Paul knew none of them had any idea just how hard emotions were for him, how often he locked them away because he just didn’t have the experience to process or handle them.

Love and connection and needing people was a foreign language to him, something most people seemed to learn to speak from birth but that he’d just missed out on, leaving him reading lips and trying to make sense of it all.

Friendship he could handle, that he learned himself, cobbling together a strange, mismatched dictionary that seemed to work well enough. Paul knew it wasn’t complete though, always feeling much more comfortable if he kept himself just a step apart, to stop people from getting too close.

It was easier that way, safer, but sometimes he’d be in the middle of a crowd of people, people who were supposed to be his friends, and feel like he was a world apart from them. It would strike him to the core with the strangest melancholy, something in him aching for a real connection even as Paul knew he’d never allow it.

Daryl hadn’t given him a choice though; he spoke the same mismatched language, the only two people to share that one particular lexicon.

And now that he’d tuned into it, Paul couldn’t stop noticing it, couldn’t stop seeing the small, subtle little signs of the same feelings he felt in Daryl.

Even after settling in at Hilltop better than anyone could have imagined and integrating with the people, Daryl still never seemed as relaxed or himself as when he was with Paul. Daryl allowed him to see the sides of himself he never showed around anyone else, seeming to shrug off that familiar glass bubble the second he was around Paul. It was so strange, to feel like he knew more of Daryl than anyone else, _different_ than anyone else, like he was giving himself far too much importance whenever he thought it, but Paul knew it was true.

Daryl never laughed around anyone else.

Sure, he smirked now, maybe chuckled when something really amused him, but Paul had never heard him laugh anywhere other than when they were both alone. It was probably one of the best sights and sounds Paul had ever experienced.

Daryl talked to him too, they both did, sharing as much of their lives as they could force out of their mouths, each and every stuttering, struggling word more than they’d ever shared before. There were parts of Paul that were now known only to two people on earth and he was sure there were parts of Daryl that he was the only other keeper of. It was humbling and frightening and heavy, to share and receive like that.

And sometimes... sometimes he caught Daryl staring at him like he was shocked that he existed. Like Paul was something special, unique. Important. 

It scared the absolute shit out of him. His feelings were too heavy as it was, having Daryl’s as well could cripple him.

A sharp huff had him looking up from the planning work he should have been focusing on instead of his twisting thoughts, meeting Maggie’s narrowed gaze.

“Okay, that’s it. If I have to watch your brain run around in any more circles, I’m gonna throw up. Something is eating at you Jesus, don’t try and deny it.”

He must be more distracted and emotionally fucked up than he’d realised, if it was getting so obvious. Pinned by Maggie’s eyes, he just shrugged.

“Just tired Maggie, and planning this run is a big deal. Just trying to think of every possibility.”

The look he got in return could have stripped paint.

“Whilst I have no doubt that’s true, we both know that isn’t what’s gettin’ you so worked up. I think I’ve been more than fair leaving your business to you, but I can’t see you gettin’ like this and not say somethin’. This is about Daryl. What’s wrong?”

Paul felt himself subtly bristling at the probing, his natural deflections of sarcasm popping up instinctually as he shot her a sharp grin. “He keeps tracking mud into the trailer so I’m trying to figure out where to hide all of his things when he’s next in the shower.”

He ducked the eraser she tossed at his head. When he next met her eyes, he was shocked at the mix of frustration and hurt he saw on her face.

“Aren’t we meant to be friends Jesus?” she asked quietly, “Haven’t I come to you enough? Shared what was hurting me enough? I would have thought you knew you could do the same with me.”

Paul sighed heavily, feeling like a prick. “You _are_ my friend Maggie, you know that. You’re... really more of a sister in fact. I just...” he paused, feeling frustrated at his lack of fucking ability to behave like a human sometimes. “I just find it hard.”

Maggie nodded, face softening as she smiled gently at him. “I know, I know you do Jesus. Normally I wouldn’t prod, but maybe you need that. For someone to force it out of you. And you know I’m damn stubborn.”

Paul smirked, immense fondness welling up in him. “Oh don’t I just.”

She pushed away from her desk, rising and joining him on the couch. Despite knowing she cared and was just trying to help, he still couldn’t help but feeling slightly cornered and exposed, like he was being strapped down, about to have his raw, exposed nerves pecked at.

“So come on,” she began gently, “tell me what’s wrong.”

All the words were stuck in his throat. “I don’t know how,” he admitted quietly. He didn’t look at her, didn’t think he’d like to see the pity or frustration on her face when she realised how unfinished he was a person, obviously having missed some vital part of the software everyone else got. Didn’t want to ever see her realise he wasn’t worth the effort.

But as always, Maggie surprised him. From the corner of his eye, Paul saw her look away from him, staring straight forward as she relaxed back into the couch cushions, giving him some breathing room.

“Okay, how ‘bout this. I’m going to drop the oblivious act. You like Daryl. It’s probably more than like and we both know it. And for some reason, you’re freaking out about it. Is it because it’s Daryl? Is there something wrong with him? Do you wish it wasn’t him that you fell for? Do you want him to change?”

“No!” he said, alarmed that she could ever think he wanted Daryl to change. “Never! He’s fucking... perfect as he is! Even when he’s an asshole. It’s nothing like that.”

“Okay,” she replied with a smile, “okay good, I didn’t think it was. I’ve never seen anyone take to Daryl so quickly or so easily. Even Carol took a while to warm up to him. The rest of us had no clue how to take him at first. You never seemed to have that problem, even after the whole truck and punchin’ business.”

Despite the emotional upheaval he was feeling, the memory of that was enough to make him smile fondly. “Couldn’t help it I suppose. There’s just something about him. He’s special.”

“So what’s stopping you then? Help me understand here.”

“Just... everything!” he forced out, heart pounding as he tried to put his thoughts and worries and feelings into words. “The world we live in! The danger everywhere! _Me_!”

She was quiet for a moment, voice gentle as she finally spoke. “What about you?”

“There’s- just. There’s just something _wrong_ with me, I don’t know how to do all this!” he admitted, frustration and anger at himself clouding his voice. “I’ve never felt like this before Maggie and I don’t know what to do about it, how to handle it. And I’m so fucking scared, all the time. I’m in too deep already and I didn’t even notice it happen! He was just there and now he’s utterly irreplaceable to me. Do you get how new that is for me? To have someone I just... couldn’t be without?”

She didn’t nod, didn’t try to placate him or calm him down, she just settled in and kept listening. Paul was so grateful he could have cried, emotions all over the place as he finally put his fears and worries, all his tangled, frayed feelings, into words.

He couldn’t sit still any longer, pushing himself off the couch and pacing, avoiding Maggie’s eyes and voice quiet. “And... recently... I think he might feel the same. It was terrifying enough when it was just me I had to worry about, when I only had _my_ heart to protect. But if he- if he cares the way I do, that just opens up even more problems and worries!

“How can I risk all that Maggie?” he asked almost pleadingly, ”what am I supposed to do? And I’m not asking you to tell me if you know something about his feelings, whether he told you or you just suspect, that’s not fair. But if he really does feel the same way, how could I chance that?”

He stopped pacing finally, dropping back onto Maggie’s couch.

“I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to him. And I know, I _know_ how horrible it is for me to say that to you, you’ve already felt that a hundred times worse. But I know myself Maggie, always have. If something happened, if he died, I’d just... not be all here anymore.”

She put a hand on his back, still saying nothing.

“And if that doesn’t happen,” he continued quietly, a weight settling into his stomach as the real, deepest fears finally emerged, “something worse might. For him. Because as much as the thought of him dying keeps me up at night, logically I know... I know it’ll probably be me first. I can just feel it.”

Maggie inhaled sharply, looking at him in shock.

“Everything Daryl’s been through, it defies logic!” he broke off, voice solemn, “I think he’ll be the last of us all. And I know he doesn’t want to be. We’re friends now, close friends, even if I died now, it’d still hurt him. If he does feel the same, we get together and then I die, what will that do to him? I’m scared of that more than death, scared of hurting him like that. It’s just... not worth the risk.”

Maggie was quiet in the face of his verbal diarrhoea of worries and pessimistic foresight, before her eyes turned fierce.

“What about me then huh? What about what me and Glenn tried and fought like hell for? You think that wasn’t worth it?”

A flair of panic erupted in him. “No! That’s not-“

“Shut up and listen now Jesus. Me and Glenn knew the risks, knew exactly what could happen and I thought I lost him a few times before- before I actually did. But it was never, not for one second, _ever_ not worth the risk. If I hadn’t tried, my life would have been so much less, would be so much emptier. And I know he felt the same.”

She broke off, voice unsteady as she pinned him with her glare.

“Yes, he died. And it killed something in me. There’s never a moment that I don’t miss him or feel that pain but the memory of him keeps me going. Even when everything was going to shit, we had... we had such beautiful moments. And now, now I have our child. And it was worth it, worth all of it to have had Glenn. I can’t tell you what to do Jesus, but I’d go through all of that again and not change a single thing.”

He felt like an asshole, but despite the fire of her words, she didn’t seem angry with him, more like she just wanted him to understand. And he did. Paul nodded, squeezing her hand when it slipped into his, the both of them falling into silence, absorbed in their own thoughts.

“If... if I do try, if we get together and something happens to me, will you be there? Look after him? He tries to be okay on his own, deal with stuff alone, but we both know he needs people. I don’t know how he’d take it but, I wouldn’t want him to be alone.”

She sighed but eventually nodded. “I refuse to focus on that possibility Jesus. You aren’t dying, neither is he. But, if it’ll reassure you, then yes. I’ll be there. Don’t make me be though.”

Paul smiled, relief pouring through him as he pulled her into a hug.

‘I’ll do my best.”

 

———

 

Even with danger lurking around every corner, the excitement Paul felt as they first entered DC surprised him. He hadn’t been into the city since the start, when he was desperately trying to find things or food or even people, back before he found Hilltop. Returning now, Paul could barely believe this had once been such a large, thriving city, full of people just living their lives.

It was a ghost town now, occupied by the dead and the odd, savage animal that’d managed to survive this long. It wasn’t a place for the living. Not yet.

The group creeped carefully through the streets, casually dropping any walkers that came close with easy slices and stabs. Paul didn’t feel like he could be blamed for unashamedly staring when Daryl threw a spear through one of their heads, the muscles of his arms flexing.

It all felt so easy, almost deceptively so. Paul was on full alert, as was everyone, but so far it’d been nothing like they’d expected. Maybe the war had drawn more of the dead out of the cities, or maybe they were just falling apart now with no living beings around for them to eat.

A whistle sounded from Daryl a little way ahead, turning his head to nod at Paul and beckoning him forward. He pushed his horse into a quick trot, catching up with Daryl and stopping.

“Seems quiet huh?” Daryl said, looking up at him from his bike, “think they’re waitin’ somewhere or just wandered off?”

“I honestly don’t know Daryl. Maybe a few of them ended up in the herd we took to the Sanctuary, maybe they just headed off to find food, or maybe they just rotted to nothing. Whatever the case, we need to be careful. Go where we need but have plenty of exit strategies. Let’s not have another run like last month shall we?”

Daryl groaned quietly and ducked his head. “You still goin’ on about that huh? How was I meant to see they’d chained the back door shut from the other side of a damn room filling with walkers?”

“You got out of a window Daryl, I had to climb up the damn chimney.”

Daryl snorted in a manner Paul refused to find adorable. “Looked like Santa had turned hippy and started robbin’ joints.”

“Well that’s _you_ off the nice list for this year Daryl.”

A sharp cough sounded from behind them, both turning their heads to see an amused Carol smirking at them.

“If you two are done... _talking_ , we need to get a move on.”

Smothering a smile and a flash of delight at Daryl’s faint blush as he grumbled and started his bike again, Paul moved back into line as the rest of the group caught up. The plan of action was simple but all the more complicated for it; they’d travel into the heart of DC, right into where nobody had dared to chance for a long time, whilst also allowing themselves the freedom to scavenge anything interesting along the way.

As he rode, Paul’s mind finally moved away from Daryl, focusing only on every alleyway, every road that had blockades or escapes or dead ends, slowly building up his mental map of the area. It was a particular skill of his, one that saved his ass and other’s many times, always knowing where to run and what around them they could use in an emergency. Surrounded by a group of the top fighters and runners of all the communities, Paul felt confident they could handle anything, but it never hurt to be careful.

Two hours or so later, they’d slowly started to build up a very decent haul, Paul and Daryl briefly pealing off to check out the mechanic shop they passed down a little side street. Paul kept the dead off Daryl’s back as he raided everything he could, grinning and chatting on their way back to the group about what he could do with the new stuff. It mostly went over his head, but Paul just loved listening to Daryl talk, even if he slowly trailed off when they rejoined the main group. The urge to knock Rick out, just once, was almost unbearable. It didn’t take a genius to see how unsure Daryl still was around him.

By the time they reached the Smithsonian, they’d had to deal with increasingly large groups of walkers, all of them starving and decrepit but still dangerous. Paul was sure there were more around, but he hoped they’d be finished and long gone before a herd amassed.

“Quickly and quietly,” Rick warned them needlessly, splitting up the group into who would stay to watch their horses and current haul, and who would go in searching for supplies.

It’d been Paul’s idea to hit the Smithsonian whilst they were in DC, selling it to the leaders with the promise of tools that’d stood the test of time, that’d been used in a time before machines and electricity. He’d told Rick it was “rebuilding the future with the tools of the past.”

Rick and the rest had nodded seriously. Daryl however, had subtly kicked his shin, the only person who was ever able to tell when he was being a bit of a shit, always getting a kick out of spinning grand words with a straight face.

Still, he was quite genuinely vibrating out of his saddle with excitement to get inside the museum. He’d been once, many many years ago on one of the rare trips at the group home and he’d been utterly captivated. There was just so much history, so much information and stories to be found in there, that Paul had wanted to stay forever. He never did manage to get back there and after the world fell, he never thought he would again, so the prospect of exploring with totally free range was almost too much for him to handle.

Daryl had just sat shaking his head that night in their trailer, after the final plans for the run were confirmed and the museum was on the agenda, chuckling at him as Paul talked and talked about everything he wanted to see and read and fucking _take_. Yes, he was absolutely shameless in his desire to steal as much as his sticky fingers could grab.

Daryl had never told him to be quiet though. He never tried to tell Paul he was stupid or annoying in his pure enthusiasm and excitement. No, instead he’d just promised to bring an extra rucksack.

Now, as he stepped inside the rubble strewn foyer for the first time since he was fifteen, Paul couldn’t quite stop the wild grin spreading over his face as he looked up at the ceiling, feet itching to travel every inch of the place.

When Rick gave the go ahead, they moved out, clearing any walkers that had made their way inside over time. As soon as he was able, Paul wandered off, moving through the exhibits with pure joy and an unquenchable thirst for all the knowledge in the building. His bag quickly became weighed down with things; an incredible, ornate dagger that he absolutely _needed_ to have back in the trailer, a necklace for Maggie that once belonged to a queen and should damn well be worn by one again, and a Bronze Age arrowhead for Daryl.

He also made note of anything he came across that would help their communities, dragging what he could out into the hallway and leaving the rest that needed more than one person to move. The plow alone would be extremely useful when it came time to sow the new crops. 

Paul crossed paths with Daryl occasionally, both of them finding their way to each other no matter which parts of the museum they’d headed to. It was nice, Paul savouring each second they got to spend shirking their duties and simply walking through the exhibits together.

Ever since his overly emotional talk with Maggie, something that occasionally kept him up at night cringing over, Paul had settled his feelings for Daryl. He’d accepted he loved him and that maybe, someday, something could happen between them. That wasn’t to say he didn’t still get scared about it, more that he wasn’t going to let that fear ruin the time he got with Daryl. It was too precious, too rare to waste, that feeling of total completeness and peace, like he’d finally found a space in the world that was meant just for him and it happened to be side by side with Daryl.

He liked to think Daryl knew he had a place by Paul’s side too, one that could simply never be filled by anyone else. He thought so, what with the way Daryl always ended up falling into step next to him, the both of them separating only to come back together, twin magnets in their chests leading them to each other.

When they all finally started on their journey back home, Daryl stayed even closer than usual, still subtly shook up over Paul’s “damn insane ninja shit” that he’d pulled after the glass floor cracked under Ezekiel, sending him plummeting to the solid stone below, unconscious and slowly converged on by walkers.

It’d worked out in the end of course and Paul was fine, Ezekiel too thank fuck. Paul couldn’t help but notice the way Carol was fussing over the king as they finished their run and headed towards home. He also couldn’t help but notice the similarities in Daryl’s actions towards him.

 

———

 

Finding new people was always exciting for Paul, all the potential skills and personalities, all their backgrounds and what they could bring to the communities. And more than that, just the knowledge that they were taking more back from the dead, taking the people out from their clutches, from having to run and hide from them like animals and allowing them to be human again.

Paul had liked the new group from the get go, their leader Magna was tough and drove a hard bargain, not desperate enough to throw their lot in with strangers unless they felt they could offer something better than they could get for themselves. He could also see how much she cared for her group, for the people who looked to her, willing to follow wherever she lead them.

But as excited as he was for taking them back to Alexandria, to folding them into their world, he couldn’t help but wish they’d come along on any other day. The urge to just turn around and ride back to Daryl was almost overwhelming. It’d been a long, meandering journey for them both, but Paul really believed they were on the same page now. He felt it, saw it even, whenever he looked at Daryl.

They’d both had their respective freak out, because Daryl must have had one too, Paul knew him too well, and then come to realisation that these feelings were going absolutely nowhere. Paul for one, was finally willing to take the risk.

Despite feeling fairly confident in Daryl returning his feeling, Paul had still been hesitant, still waiting for the right moment to bring it up. Nothing ever felt right though, not until they were both stood together looking out at their group, knowing they’d done their job and ensured the communities safety for a bit longer.

When he heard Daryl’s shy comment, his heart nearly stopped, but then some strange peace came over him, a profound sense of rightness telling him to just go for it. He’d put his hand over Daryl’s and asked to talk when he got back. He could practically see the thoughts play out over Daryl’s face, knowing he was going round in circles trying to figure out if Paul meant it. He hoped his eyes had said enough and as Daryl twisted his hand to properly hold his, fingers slotting together so damn perfectly, Paul knew he’d understood.

Standing together, hand in hand and smiling like idiots, Paul was sure he’d never felt happier, never felt so hopeful and excited for the future. Leaving Daryl behind was almost physically painful, everything in him screaming that he shouldn’t leave, not now, wanting nothing more than to ride back to him and just never go. But Paul still had a job to do, they both did, and no matter what happened between them in the future, that would never change. Both of them were too fixated on the survival and wellbeing of the communities and their people to ever let anything interfere.

Still, as he lead Magna’s group to Alexandria, he couldn’t help going over and over in his head what he’d say to Daryl when he finally got back. He could try to play it cool maybe, not dump too many feelings on Daryl at once, but Paul’s feelings were the very opposite of cool. He didn’t want something meaningless and shallow, something fun while it lasted but rarely thought of once over. He wanted Daryl, wanted all of him, the good and the bad, forever. For as long as they had left.

Yeah, there was no time and no point for holding anything back. When he returned to Hilltop, he’d tell him everything. He’d tell Daryl he loved him, that he wanted to be with him more than anything. 

Paul rode towards Alexandria with an immense, burning, giddy hope and excitement in his heart. There were no guarantees in this life, but he knew he wanted to spend whatever time he had left with Daryl.

Much later, as he drew a herd of walkers away from the others, that thought wouldn’t leave his head. And as he felt a piercing pain in his shoulder, clawing hands dragging him down as he clamped his mouth shut so Rick, Rosita and Eugene didn’t have to live with the guilt of leaving him as he screamed in pain, he focused on the last image he had of Daryl, sat on his bike and waving him off with a smile that had promised so much. 

When the dead closed in, the only regret Paul could find was that he was never able to tell Daryl how much he loved him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Life is a bitch xD hope you enjoyed Paul’s side of things...
> 
> Can’t decide if this story will be 3 chapters or 4 at the moment, so maybe the next update won’t be the end! Thank you for all the amazing comments on the first chapter! I can’t wait to see what you all thought of this one xD xxxx


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *minor instances of self harm. Nothing graphic, but better safe than sorry :)*

Maggie found Daryl later, lying numbly in Paul’s bed and staring at the ceiling.

He didn’t look over when she came inside, didn’t do anything but simply keep breathing. It was all he could manage.

“Daryl?”

He said nothing. She came slowly through the trailer and Daryl could tell she was picking up on the same things he had. That Paul was never coming back and everything in here was all they had left of him; books, weird shit and memories, so many memories.

The bed creaked and dipped as she sat on the edge and Daryl just about managed to scoot himself over, Maggie lying down with him, the two of them in heavy, grief-stricken silence as they just stared at the ceiling. She took hold of his hand and Daryl gripping back fiercely, instinctually, like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“I’m so sorry Daryl,” she whispered into the silence, the aching pain in him flaring back into a wildfire.

“Wasn’t s’posed to happen,” he said in return, voice cracked and dry and barely there at all, “not to him. We... we were gonna talk, when he came back. ‘Bout us.”

“Oh Daryl...”

She didn’t say more, she didn’t seem able to.

“What ‘m I s’posed to do now?” he asked numbly into the silence, unsure if he was talking to her or himself or the universe. Or maybe just the ghost of Paul still lingering in the trailer.

“Do you want me to send a runner for Carol?” she asked gently.

“I- I don’ know.”

The thought filled him with dread. It was such a strange, utterly ridiculous desire, but he didn’t want the rest of them to know about Paul yet. He could barely explain it, even to himself, but over at the Kingdom, Paul was- he was still _alive_.

How strange was that? That a person could be both alive and dead based only on someone’s knowledge of the facts. Paul had died alone and in pain but to Daryl, he’d still been alive, he was just delayed at Alexandria. They still had a future. Paul was still coming home to him.

Daryl knew it was stupid, but the thought that Paul was still alive, if only in people’s minds at the Kingdom, made him want to preserve that. Keep him safe there for a little longer.

Once everyone knew, he was really, truly gone. Never to walk through the trailer door again. Never to take a chance with him.

“What... what’m I s’posed to _do_?” he repeated again, mind trying to figure out how to go forward from this and simply unable to do so, cogs creaking and grinding in his brain, the thought of a life without Paul in it just utterly unimaginable.

“I don’t know Daryl,” she replied, voice choked with held back tears. She wasn’t just thinking of Paul now, she was thinking of Glenn too. “Even now, I don’t know. Just... keep breathing I suppose. Keep going.”

He said nothing, unable to express that this was the one thing he wasn’t sure he could keep going from. His vast history of pain and suffering and grief were all eclipsed by the feeling that hit him at Rick’s words. He never should have risked it. Should have known it’d end like this.

“He- he asked me to look after you ya know? If anything like this happened.”

Daryl finally turned his head to look at her, heart pounding, reminding him he wasn’t as dead as he felt. Through the shock and grief, he had to admit that sounded very much like Paul. Always planning for everything, always making sure people were taken care of.

“When?”

“After he gave you your knives. Was stressin’ something awful and I managed to corner him. Had to practically beat it out of him. You know what he’s li-“ she broke off, her words catching up to her, the small, fond smile dropping off her face as more tears welled up in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. Daryl’s breath caught in his chest.

Was. What he _was_ like.

A shuddering breath left Maggie before she carried on, squeezing his hand so tight it hurt. “He was scared. Scared of taking the chance, of what might happen if either of you died. He could barely handle the thought of it happening to you, but... he said he knew it’d be him first. He wanted to know you’d be okay. After.”

Anger and pain and empty, howling grief tore up his insides, ripping into his lungs until he was sure he’d just stop breathing altogether. He didn’t though. He carried on. He always carried on.

“Need to find him Maggie,” he muttered, turning onto his side, facing the wall to hide his face from her, “bring him home. What happens after that don’t really matter.”

She didn’t say anything more, neither of them did. She just kept him grounded as he cried silently, both of them too full of grief for any more words. It hurt so bad he thought he’d split right down the middle.

The light of the day vanished, Daryl dimly aware of the passing of time but having no interest in it. What point was there to another day or another night or another week if Paul wasn’t there to see it, to live it with him. What was the point of anything?

At some point his exhausted mind just shut off, sending him plummeting into dreams; twisted, beautiful, horrible, hopeful and heartbreaking dreams. What ifs and could have beens, all mixed in with horrific imaginings of what actually happened.

When he finally awoke, confused and groggy, Daryl felt someone against his back, their warm body curved around his. His heart pounded, stomach swooping, just for a second. Then he remembered. He remembered and he wanted to break into nothing but dust.

Because for a second, for one beautiful moment, his sleep addled brain thought it was Paul. Like yesterday hadn’t happened, like he’d come back from Alexandria and finally settled where he always should have been. Right next to Daryl.

But it wasn’t Paul. Paul wasn’t lying next to him sleeping, he was out on a street somewhere, whatever was left of him just forgotten and abandoned.

It struck Daryl then just how many bodies or bits of bodies he’d walked past since this all started. He’d never given them a second thought, not really. And he knew that anybody walking past Paul wouldn’t care either. They wouldn’t know how brave he was and how smart, they wouldn’t care what his smile looked like or what his voice sounded like. They’d look at his fucked up body and at most, they’d breathe a sigh of relief that it was him not them, not anyone they cared about.

They’d never know how loved he was.

Daryl just hoped Paul did.

 

———

 

Hours later, just as true morning broke, the faint sounds of life continuing on just outside the trailer, Maggie stirred. She woke, sat up and looked around, her momentary confusion wiped away by a fresh wave of grief as yesterday settled in for her too.

“Oh. I’d- I’d forgot for a second then,” she muttered, her words sending more pain flaring up in Daryl at the heartbreak in her voice. “Just... can’t believe I’m not gonna see him again.”

Daryl knew then that he wanted to be alone, that he _needed_ to be. It hit him like lightening but if he had to watch one more person look like that, he was going to crack. Before he set off for Paul, to find him and bring his body home, Daryl knew he just needed time to be alone, to try and get himself together enough to do that one damn thing.

Maggie tried to talk to him as he sat up quickly but he ignored her, the words white noise in his ears. He clambered off the bed, legs almost to weak to carry him and the weight of his grief as he retreated into the tiny bathroom. He shut the door, legs giving out as he slid down it, sitting on the floor in a numb pile.

“Daryl? Are you- is there anything I can do?”

He appreciated that she didn’t ask if he was okay. He knew she understood the fucking pointlessness of that knee-jerk question. He wasn’t okay and as the empty drag of whatever time he had left suddenly spread out in his mind, Daryl knew he never would be again. He’d live, probably, he’d just be empty.

“Daryl?”

He cleared his throat, lump stuck back in it as his vision swam. “Nah. Get goin’ Mags,” he forced out as gently as he could, “just- just wanna be alone for a bit.”

A pause, before her voice came through the door once again, sad and so deeply understanding. “Okay Daryl. But I’m here, we all are.”

He didn’t reply and eventually, he heard her footsteps move away, the door of the trailer opening and shutting behind her. Daryl was finally alone.

The silence was deafening. It was all wrong. _Everything_ was wrong.

Daryl’s chest hitched and stuttered, having to force each breath in and out around the burning ball of agony in his rib cage. Everything felt wrong; breathing, thinking, the air over his skin. Any world that no longer had Paul alive in it just wasn’t right and it never would be again. 

He pushed himself off the floor in a daze, tearing his clothes off and staggering into the tiny shower. He turned the water as hot as he could stand it, hoping the burn would warm the coldness that was settling into his bones, the numb feeling that wouldn’t leave his mind or limbs.

It wasn’t until his arms started stinging that he looked down and realised he’d been raking his nails over his skin, leaving thick red lines down his forearms. It hurt. It didn’t hurt enough.

This was only Daryl’s first morning without Paul. The thought of having to endure however many more was almost too much for him. He just wanted Paul back, wanted to see his face and listen to him talk. It was unbearable to think that he never would again. Maybe one day he’d forget exactly what Paul sounded like, forget the little spark he’d get in his eyes when he was talking shit but nobody else could tell. Maybe he’d even forget the way Paul smiled at him.

The hot water gradually turned cold, but still Daryl couldn’t move, his head spinning with memories and moments. Like the first time Paul ever joined him outside after a nightmare, calming Daryl with just his presence even before they’d really started to become friends. Or the way Paul had ninja’d himself off the first floor of the Smithsonian and down to where Ezekiel had just fallen through the floor, fighting off the small horde of walkers to protect the unconscious king with nothing but his knives and Daryl shooting bolts from above.

Paul was always so focused on saving someone he rarely bothered about the danger he was in. Daryl had chewed him out so many times about it, telling him it’d get him killed one day. For once in their many little arguments, Daryl hated that he was right.

Daryl finally manage to drag himself out of the shower when his fingers started to go numb from the cold, whole body shivering. He dried off mechanically and moved back into the main area of the trailer, pain hitting him once more as he looked at all the stuff, all the little reminders of a person he’d never see again, never talk to again. The knowledge was paralysing.

One of Paul’s shirts caught his eye, the blue long sleeved one that was his favourite for cold weather. He’d worn it so often it was almost threadbare in places. Daryl was in front of it before he’d realised he’d moved, reaching out to hold the soft fabric in his hands, throat choked up as he lifted it to his face.

It still smelt like Paul.

He pulled it on, the slightly stretchy material still tight around his shoulders but he didn’t care. Daryl’s throat closed up again, rubbing a fist over his eyes roughly as he forced himself to finish dressing, throwing his vest over the top of it. He tried not to notice the absence of Paul’s boots by the door.

When he was done, he found himself just standing there in the middle of the room, time skipping as he lost himself in his thoughts, his grief, his absolute hollow, aching horror at the new future he could see stretching out before him. Daryl sat heavily at the table, eyes drawn immediately to Paul’s sketchbook, pulling it towards him after a moments hesitation.

Paul was always so shy about his drawings, usually keeping them to himself, but he’d occasionally show Daryl what he was working on or a finished sketch. Daryl flipped to the front and began to look properly for the first time, some stubborn, hopeful part of him still expecting the usual gentle swat to the head he always got when he’d tried to look before.

Paul wasn’t here though. Daryl could look all he wanted. Not like he would ever know.

The first few pages were full of little doodles, some of them nearly getting a smile out of Daryl, the highly unflattering caricature of Gregory with a petulant “I’M THE BOSS!” speech bubble for example. Then he flipped another page and his heart started to tighten again. There were beautiful sketches of Maggie; heavily pregnant and sitting in the sun on Barrington’s porch, asleep at her desk, braiding Enid’s hair. Daryl knew Maggie had become family to Paul, something he’d never thought he’d have again and he knew Maggie felt that too, gravitating to Paul from the start.

Now he was just another sibling she’d had to outlive.

Daryl flipped to another page, more doodles, more sketches of the people of Hilltop, of everyone working together. They looked hopeful, bright, the way Paul always tried to see everything despite his own demons. He flipped one more page and stopped breathing.

Daryl never knew Paul had drawn him before. He’d never said and had certainly never shown him.

There were so many little sketches of him; sharpening knives on the stoop outside, reading on the couch, sat with Judith. Each one showing just a regular slice of life for them that shouldn’t be so extraordinary but just _were_.

He turned one more page and saw the full page portrait of himself.

Was that how Paul had seen him?

He was sat on the roof of the trailer, just over half of his face visible as he looked out over Hilltop, a content smile on his face.

Daryl knew the only reason he’d be smiling like that was if Paul was next to him, the way they passed so many evening, sat on their roof and talking, watching their little corner of the world move around them.

He’d never smile like that again. Never feel that kind of bone deep contentment, that sense of rightness and completeness. He’d never be complete again, not with the better half of him rotting out on some empty fucking street.

Daryl shut the sketchbook carefully, making sure not a single page got crumpled, even if he wanted to slam it shut and throw it far away from him. He stood up numbly, carefully bearing the book over to Paul’s bed, slipping it under his pillow. He’d give Maggie some of the pages later, he knew she’d appreciate them, but the rest he’d keep. Even if he couldn’t bare to look at them, he just knew he had to have it, to be able to touch something Paul had so many times.

He just wished Paul had drawn himself.

As he turned around, he saw more things, things he’d glossed over last night. The Jesus mug that had started their back and forth gift giving, the small pile of books by Daryl’s couch that Paul had leant him, the few children’s toys in the corner from when Hershel came to visit Uncle Jesus and Uncle Daryl.

Was this how it was going to be now? Would every odd object bring up memories? Would every memory tear his heart out every single time? Would the burning, raging pain ever end?

The dagger from that damn DC trip caught his eye next, the ridiculous amount of jewels and fancy shit glinting in the sun coming through the window. Paul loved that thing, stealing it with such unashamed glee. Daryl could see his face so clearly, remembering how Paul had bounded up to him as their paths crossed yet again in that museum; expression so open and delighted as he chewed Daryl’s ear off about its history, the two of them shirking their duties for just a second, walking through the rooms together. Paul was always so damn positive and forward thinking, hoping that one day they could save all that knowledge for future generations, to teach them the long history of the world before.

Paul should have had years, decades even. He should have been around to share all that damn knowledge in his head.

Daryl couldn’t help but think again of the way Paul had saved Ezekiel, how he’d all but thrown himself down a flight of stairs and then through the broken glass floor after the fallen king. He’d moved before the rest of them could react, taking out every walker near him with hard kicks and pushes until he had enough space to get his knives out. Even as Daryl started shooting stragglers with his crossbow, he couldn’t help but be awestruck by the graceful power of Paul and his knives, protecting the unconscious Ezekiel with ease.

Paul was easily one of the best fighters Daryl had ever seen. Daryl knew he’d have tried to fight to the end, even if it was useless, even as the dead fucking devoured him. Paul didn’t know how _not_ to fight.

The thought of how much Paul would have suffered, all alone and fighting pointlessly to the end, paralysed him. 

He wanted to slump to the floor, to lock the door and throw away the key, to just lie back down in Paul’s bed and stay there. It hurt so much he wasn’t sure he could take it, insides raw and burning. It was all just too much.

It was grief and anger and loss and heartbreak. Daryl was mourning a man and a future, both having died, both stolen from him. It had taken him a while to realise his feelings, then to accept them, but Daryl knew he was done now, he’d had his shot and now it was too late. He didn’t believe in love at first sight or fucking soulmates or whatever, but he knew in his very DNA that Paul was the one for him. The only one.

Daryl couldn’t help but remember the one and only time they’d held each other, the night Paul had gifted him his daggers. He’d fit so perfectly against him and Daryl wished so hard it hurt that he’d just held on instead, that he’d never let Paul go. Daryl would never feel that again. Never touch him or see him, never listen to his voice as he chatted in their trailer, never feel that overwhelming warmth and happiness as he realised he finally had a home and someone he wanted more than anything.

Time skipped a little again, tears wetting his face as he tried to just breathe. Daryl realised he’d never make it to Paul like this, that he had to keep it together. He wiped his face roughly and shakily reached for his pack of cigarettes, pulling one out and lighting it. He took a deep drag, letting the familiar stale taste and nicotine attempt to calm him down. Paul would not be impressed if he was here right now, he’d banned Daryl from smoking inside right at the start of them both living together. Not like he could complain any more though, so fuck it.

As the cigarette dwindled down to nearly nothing, Daryl pulled up the sleeve of Paul’s shirt and pressed the end against the inside of his wrist. It barely even registered on his pain scale anymore, but he focused on it, letting the little bright spark of pain settle him. It was so much easier to concentrate on that, to use it to try and ignore the much worse pain in his chest.

Once he’d finished, Daryl stood up, feeling centered and focused at last. He had a job to do. It was just a job, just a run to retrieve something and bring it back. There was no room for emotions, not until it was done. He could feel himself freezing up inside, making himself cold and angry and distant, pushing away any other feelings. It was the only way to get it done.

He didn’t look around the trailer again as he finally moved to the door, shouldering his carelessly packed bag and bow, strapping his knives to his side and pulling the door open. The bright light blinded him for a second as he stepped out, the door shutting behind him. His eyes adjusted after a second, immediately spotting the group fucking lookout on the picnic table closest to the trailer.

A strange, raging possessiveness welled up in him for a moment. That was their table, his and Paul’s, everyone knew that. Seeing anyone else on it, especially now, just felt wrong. Daryl stormed over, seeing the sad, solemn, pitying looks on the faces of Rick, Aaron, Maggie and Tara. He was sick of that fucking look.

“Daryl-“

“Goin’ now,” he interrupted roughly, speaking over Rick’s damn ‘reasonable and calm’ voice, “be back when I’m back. Where’m’I headin’?

He started to walk but was stopped by Rick jumping up from his seat and grabbing his arm. Daryl shrugged it off, skin, muscle and fucking bone too sensitive for touch. He avoided Rick’s eye.

“Daryl, you ain’t goin’ alone. I’m goin’ with you.”

“Hell nah, can do this alone. Just tell me where P- where you all were.”

Rick got in front of him. “Daryl come on, you can’t do this alone. If even a quarter of those walkers are still around, you’re gonna need backup. Let us help or you’ll never make it back, let alone with whatever you find of him.”

Daryl winced. He felt trapped, felt like he was buzzing out of his skin, the tentative protection of ice and anger fragile enough to shatter at any word, any look. He was half convinced that if it did, whatever was left of him would shatter right along with it.

“Fuck off Rick. Move.”

He shoved Rick out of his way, striding off, hoping they didn’t notice how quick and gasping his breathing was. He heard one set of footsteps behind him as he got closer to the gate, stopping reluctantly as Aaron gently called his name.

He didn’t turn, didn’t want to see the rest of them or for them to see him, but he didn’t shy away when Aaron moved to stand in front of him. Unlike Rick, he didn’t get too close, didn’t try to touch him or pen him in. He just stood there and when Daryl was finally able to look at his face, he saw profound sorrow and understanding there.

“I don’t want to tell you what to do Daryl,” he began gently, “if you want to go alone, I’ll make sure you can. But I just want to ask you, _please_ , to let me come. You didn’t let me go into our house alone, after Eric. You were right there with me. I thought I wanted to be alone, but I was so damn grateful you were there. And I know... I know that Eric would have been relieved I wasn’t alone. I think maybe Jesus would feel the same.”

Daryl bit the inside of his cheek, trying desperately to keep his tears at bay, to choke back the lump in his throat and make everything ice over again. Aaron always knew how to get through to him though, always had, even without words.

“I’m so sorry Daryl. There aren’t words for how sorry I am. It’s just not fair and I’d do anything to change it. I know what this was for you. What he was.”

Aaron stepped forward, just a bit. Daryl just tried not to shake too visibly.

“Let me help you bring him home.”

Daryl felt his control waver, grasping onto it with everything he had, even as all he wanted to do was give in, collapse, go far far away and just ignore everything. He tasted blood in his mouth, biting down harder on the inside of his cheek to stop himself breaking down. He’d never stop if he did, Daryl knew that with stone cold certainty. If he let himself break down now, he’d never find Paul, never bring him home and lay him to rest. He’d just... stop.

Daryl knew Aaron was right though, he did need help. It was the best chance he had of getting Paul home. He couldn’t speak though, didn’t trust himself to, he just nodded once at Aaron, seeing his relief as he nodded over Daryl’s shoulder at Rick. He moved past Daryl, thankfully not trying to talk to him or fucking touch him, Aaron joining him as they walked together to where the vehicles were stored.

Daryl made to follow them but paused as Maggie and Tara joined him. Tara looked pained and Daryl braced himself for whatever she’d come out with. Even though she’d never blamed him for Denise’s death, some permanently guilt ridden part of himself half expected her to feel gratified, to say he finally understood how she’d felt. She didn’t though, of course she didn’t. Instead Tara just smiled sadly at him, nudging his shoulder gently, muttering a quiet “sorry” before she turned and left.

Maggie stayed, the two of them standing in silence for a second or two before she looked at him, hesitant almost.

“I’d... I would come you know? I just-“

“Nah,” he interrupted gently, “don’t want you to. You don’t need to see that. Ain’t fair. Stay here yeah? I’ll... I’ll bring him home.”

“I know you will Daryl, I know. Stay safe okay? Please. I can’t lose you both.”

He nodded, managing not to flinch at her hand reaching for his, squeezing it gently before she moved away, walking towards Barrington and somehow looking smaller than she had in a long, long time. Grief always made dwarves out of giants.

Without letting himself think about anything in particular, Daryl moved to meet Rick and Aaron. He rounded the corner and saw they’d already picked the vehicle; one of their open bed trucks. Rick and Aaron were already inside and Daryl would rather be dragged along behind it that sit with them, jumping into the bed of the truck instead.

Getting comfortable, Daryl froze as he caught sight of the rolled up sheets and tarp, feeling sick to his stomach. Of course they’d picked this truck. Plenty of room for a body.

He kicked his heel hard down onto the truck bed, letting Rick know he was ready, catching Rick staring at him through the rear view mirror. Daryl turned away, looking out as the truck started moving, the gate letting them through and the world moving around him.

It was easy for a moment, to just stop thinking, to focus on the horizon and nothing else. It didn’t last long though, of course it didn’t, his thoughts eventually turned back to Paul. Daryl had a feeling that no matter what he did in life, no matter how long he lived, his thoughts would always be on Paul, returning to him in the only way he could like a homing bird.

Two days ago, Paul had been alive. They’d been holding hands and grinning like everything in the world had finally worked out for them. Daryl felt like nothing bad could touch him, like he was finally happy and he’d reached where he was meant to be. He should have known not to trust it, should have known the world always took everything good from him.

He’d just thought maybe, this time, he’d get to keep this one thing, the one thing he wanted and needed and yearned for above all others. He thought he’d get to keep Paul.

He’d get his bones at least. Hopefully.

The next few hours passed both in a blurry instant and a drawn out eternity. Time had stopped having any meaning for Daryl ever since Rick said those words, it just happened, the seconds and minutes and hours passing as quick or as slow as they liked. He wasn’t sure how long they’d been driving when the truck finally began to slow down. 

Daryl jolted and looked around, heart pounding before he realised this couldn’t possibly be where Paul was, it was just empty fields with thick woods on one side of the road. Disappointment and relief and anger all burned through him at once; parts of him grateful he’d have a little longer before he had to face it, whilst also wanting to get to Paul as quick as possible. The anger was at Rick of course, for taking the choice away from him and deciding they were taking a break.

Daryl ignored Rick’s comment about eating, glaring at him until he shut up and left him alone. The mere thought of eating made him want to throw up. He did relent and accept the water from Aaron though, as well as the gentle shoulder squeeze. Daryl watched the two of them grab some fruit and jerky from their bags, sitting and talking quietly. It didn’t take a genius to figure out they were talking about him, not with the quick, worried glances both of them kept shooting him.

He had to leave, he had to get away from their fucking looks and expressions before he went crazy. They were looking at him like he was going to explode or break down at any moment. They had no idea just how tightly he was keeping himself together and if they wanted to help, they needed to back the fuck off and do their bit in helping Daryl get Paul home. That was all he needed from them. He didn’t need their concern and he didn’t need a fucking babysitter.

Grabbing his smokes out of his pack in the truck, Daryl stalked off towards the trees, almost sighing in relief at the feeling of solitude the woods gave him. He didn’t go in far, just enough that he felt surrounded, the sounds and smells calming him a little as he sat on a fallen trunk and lit a cigarette. But as always, the inaction allowed emotions and memories to take over so fiercely it was like a punch to the gut.

Paul’s skills were perfectly fitted to runs, for picking his way through the ruined world and somehow finding things nobody else could, but he had occasionally joined Daryl on his hunts. He’d said he wanted to learn how to do it properly but Daryl now suspected it was just to... just to _be_ with him. It was still a foreign thought that someone would voluntarily want to be around Daryl, but he couldn’t deny that Paul did, that he somehow always had. Maybe he too had felt that inexplicable feeling, that connection drawing him to Daryl like he had to Paul. He wished he’d had the chance to ask.

He certainly hadn’t needed any lessons, that was for damn sure. Paul was as quiet and surefooted as a cat, moving through the woods with almost as much ease as Daryl himself. Soon, they abandoned the pretence all together and the times Paul joined him usually ended up with very little game being caught since they somehow spent so much time talking or walking or just being together that they forgot all about it.

They were some good days. Simple and peaceful and safe, the two of them maybe stopping by a stream and just listening to nature, or somehow ending up in a ridiculously childish game of hide and seek, both trying to one up the other. Every memory of every day they spent together in the woods hit Daryl at once, leaving him clearing tears away once more as the ice in him weakened too much.

Should have stayed by the fucking truck. Should have focused on the tarps and cloth, on the facts of the matter and not his memories. What was the point in thinking over times so good they almost seemed like a dream? Paul was dead, those days were gone. He’d never be that version of himself again, it left when Paul did.

He pressed the cigarette to his wrist again, focusing on the burn before roughly scrubbing over his eyes again. He had to keep it together, just for now, just till it was done.

The cracking of twigs and leaves had him spinning his head around, hand going for one of his knives and pulling it out ready. It wasn’t a walker though, it was Rick, stood with his hands half raised and an expression of deep worry clear on his face as he looked Daryl over. Daryl wasn’t deluded enough to think that he looked anything even remotely close to okay, but surely he didn’t warrant _that_ particular pinched look.

Daryl turned back around, staring resolutely out into the trees, hoping to fuck Rick would take the hint and leave him alone. He couldn’t handle Rick right now and the bucketful of unresolved issues and feelings he had towards him. He didn’t leave though, of course he didn’t, Rick Grimes never knew when to leave something well enough alone.

Daryl said nothing as Rick sat down next to him and surprisingly, neither did Rick. He just sighed tiredly, rubbing his hand over his face and looking older, weighed down. It struck Daryl that for the first time in a long time, he was actually seeing Rick again, his friend, his brother, the mask he put on every day slipping just for a moment.

He didn’t look like Rick the all powerful leader, the visionary of the future, cursed with the knowledge of how the world should be and determined to make everyone fall in line until it was a reality. Instead, he looked like a man who had lost far too much and was just trying to make it through each day.

As much as he wanted, _needed_ to stay angry with him, Daryl was just too damn tired right now, too emotionally fucked to dredge up the new and old resentments and disappointments. In the wake of the pure hell Paul’s death had unleashed in him, nothing else could even hold a candle.

“I’m sorry Daryl,” Rick began quietly, murmuring the same damn words he’d been hearing almost none stop. Daryl said nothing, just focused on the lingering sting on his wrist and the sounds and smells of the woods.

“I was happy for you ya know?” he continued after a moment, hesitant, shooting a quick look sideways at Daryl. “I know I never said it, didn’t think you’d appreciate it, but I was happy for you.”

“Don’t,” he choked out, desperately holding on to his frayed edges and broken pieces.

“I was proud too,” Rick continued regardless, “I still am.”

Daryl dug his fingernails into the back of his thumb, heart pounding. He was so fucking close to just breaking apart and Rick didn’t care, he was just there, talking about all that shit at the worst damn time he could ever have picked. Daryl stood jerkily, making to stalk off into the woods or back to the truck or just anywhere that Rick wasn’t.

“Hey no, come on Daryl. Please. I need to talk with you, need to say somethin’. Just sit for a minute, then we can go.”

Daryl reluctantly sat, pulling out another cigarette just to have something to do with his hands, something else to look at and focus on. He heard Rick sigh, could see out of the corner of his eye that his shoulders were slumped, rubbing a hand over his short hair.

“I’m sorry.”

“Already said that,” Daryl growled out, frustrated and uneasy, “can I go now?”

“No, not for- not that he’s dead. Not _just_ that. I’m... I’m sorry I didn’t save him. Didn’t stop him. I should’a stopped him, or figured somethin’ else out. Hell, it’s my fault he was out there in the first place.”

Daryl felt twitchy, wired, contradicting emotions sparking inside him like fireworks. He wanted to leave, wanted to stop having to listen to Rick but his friend wasn’t done stabbing at him yet.

“He said no at first,” Rick muttered, Daryl’s head shooting around and finally looking at him in shock. Paul never said no if he was asked to help.

“I pushed him, said it’d only be quick, that I needed his help. He said he had- that he had something important to do back at Hilltop.” Rick finally met Daryl’s eyes, face full of guilt. “He just wanted to get back home.”

Daryl felt like someone had poured acid down his throat it burned that bad. Rick’s words were a sledgehammer to his chest, knocking the air right out of his lungs. Paul had actually tried to refuse because he wanted to get back to Hilltop. Wanted to get back to him.

“It was you right? He was just tryin’ to get back to you.”

Daryl felt himself nod once, numb to the core, not sure why he was even responding to Rick. Maybe it was punishment. Maybe he wanted Rick to know just what his request had fucked up.

He half wanted to say more, half wanted to tell Rick that they were finally going to talk, to finally let themselves have what they both wanted. He wanted to say how it’d taken him so long to figure out what those feelings in his chest meant and longer still to accept them. Daryl had wasted so much fucking time but it’d finally seemed like they were both ready. He wanted Rick to know that by convincing Paul to help him, he’d destroyed everything, stopped something wonderful and so desperately wanted before it even got a chance to start.

They’d never even kissed.

But it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if he managed to find the words to perfectly describe what Rick had done, how wrecked Daryl now was, how terrified and heartbroken and alone. It didn’t matter. Paul was still dead. No words could change that.

“I know what I did Daryl,” Rick said, remorse and sorrow clear in his voice, ”I know it’s my fault he’s dead. I can never fix that, never make it up to you but I swear to you, I’ll help you bring him home.”

For all his faults, Rick looked away, mercifully not commenting on the few tears that managed to escape before Daryl could roughly rub them away, angry at himself for not being able to keep it together. Would it always hurt this bad? Would there ever come a time when simply existing didn’t feel like being flayed alive? He thought he knew grief, he really did. This was just something else, something beyond words.

Nothing more was said after that. They simply sat together in silence for a short while as Daryl smoked and pulled himself together, both lost in their own thoughts and guilts and regrets. Once he felt able to stand, Daryl pushed himself off the trunk, stuffing his hands into his pockets and avoiding Rick’s eyes as the other man stood to join him. It was time to go, time to face whatever came next, whatever he would find. He needed Paul now, needed to know he could take him home and bury him. He was free after that, free to crumble so completely that he’d likely never be whole again.

Just as they reached the tree line, Aaron and the truck in sight, Daryl paused, staring at the ground instead of his friend as he cleared his throat.

“Couldn’t’a stopped him,” he said quietly, words scratchy and raw, “nobody could. He saw a way to save ya and that was that. Too- too damn stubborn. Selfless.”

Rick didn’t answer, but he did gently squeeze Daryl’s shoulder after a beat. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t shrug it off.

Daryl saw Aaron stare at them both as they joined him by the truck, but thankfully he said nothing, just shot Daryl a small, sad smile as he climbed back in the truck bed. Once the truck started moving again, he allowed himself to stare at the cloth and tarp, reaching a shaky hand out to rest on them. He didn’t even know why, it just felt right.

As they continued their journey, Daryl couldn’t stop thinking of Paul and this time, he didn’t try to. He suddenly wanted to remember every single thing they’d ever done together; every conversation, every run, every moment spent in utterly content silence. He wanted to remember how Paul’s face looked when he was happy or sad, when he was being a little shit or just sat reading. He wanted to remember all the ways he’d looked at Daryl.

As the trees and fields started to give way to farm buildings and houses, a small town just visible on the horizon, Daryl was painfully aware of what he’d have to face. He wanted to freeze Paul in his mind, so kind and vibrant and fiercely, fiercely alive. He needed to remember that.

When the town finally loomed close in front of them, Daryl felt sick to his stomach. Despite wanting to find Paul so badly it ached, he couldn’t help but want to turn around and run back to their trailer, to curl up in Paul’s bed a pretend none of this was happening, that he was just out on some long run and would come back one day.

But Daryl knew that way lay madness. That was the kind of thinking that once convinced a grieving, half crazed woman to keep a walkers head in a box, to pretend that something long dead was still with her just because-

Just because it was so loved.

As they entered the town, the truck slowly coming to a stop, Daryl steeled himself. Paul deserved to be found, deserved to be laid to rest and mourned properly. Daryl could do this for him, he had to.

Aaron exited the car, Rick following, the latter looking around the buildings with something Daryl might go so far as to call fear. They both looked at Daryl as he got out of the truck bed, the sheet tucked under his arm. He’d refolded it carefully, like it was a damn flag instead of some old white bedding. Paul deserved so much more.

At his friends gentle insistence, he hesitantly handed it off to Aaron to put in his rucksack, the other man taking it so carefully it nearly knocked the air from Daryl’s lungs.

“We gotta be quick and quiet,” Rick said as they stood together, “if those- those whispering walkers are here, we’ll be right back in the shit.”

“We still need to understand what they are,” Aaron said, face pinched. “That can’t be natural can it? Some evolution of some kind?”

“Don’t care,” Daryl interrupted roughly before Rick could answer, “not now. That can wait.”

Rick nodded, “yeah, yeah we’ll figure that out later. Just be careful. It’s not far from here.”

They walked, passing between empty buildings as quickly and quietly as they could, eyeing each street and alley as they moved, ears open for groaning or the shuffling of feet. Or whispers. It was quiet though, empty, up until they started to pass the dropped bodies of walkers. They must be close. Daryl’s heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest, pain burning in his very bone marrow as he tried to focus on the differences in Paul’s smiles instead of what he’d soon have to face.

Daryl knew when they’d reached the right alley, he saw it in Rick’s body language. Through there was Paul. His body. Whatever was left of him once the walkers were done. Rick stopped in front of it, turning to face him.

“Are you sure Daryl? I’m sorry to ask again but there’s nothin’ wrong in staying here.”

“We can do it,” Aaron added kindly, moving to stand next to him. “You don’t have to.”

He couldn’t speak, didn’t trust himself to. Instead, he moved around both of them and entered the alley without hesitation. It had to be him.

They moved through the small, dark gap quickly, emerging all too soon into the light of the street. There were walker bodies everywhere, surrounding the mouth of the alley, obviously the ones that must have been cutting the group off. They were spread out in front of him too, all of it painting a picture Daryl had absolutely no interest in seeing. He saw Rick’s eyes fixed on the side of a building in front of them. So that’s where he lead them then, that’s where Paul lured the herd.

That’s where they took him down.

Daryl’s hands were shaking, head curiously empty as he took a slow, jerky step forward, eyes fixed on the corner of the building, the ground around it smeared with blood. What had Paul thought as he made his own journey towards there? As he shouted and moved, a whole herd on his heels, knowing he was likely going to his death. What had been his last thoughts as they dragged him down?

Had he known he was loved?

Daryl ached to have been able to say it, just once.

“You doing okay?” Aaron asked from next to him, Daryl not even realising he’d stopped moving. He wasn’t, they both knew that, but he grunted all the same, taking deep breaths as he forced his legs to go forward, eyes fixed on the dead walkers and smears of blood leading around the corner of the building.

Half feeling like he was just going to drop to the damn floor, Daryl turned, staring down at the mess around the corner.

His heart stopped, head fuzzy, eyes furiously taking in everything in front of him, brain trying to figure out what he was seeing.

“Daryl?”

“He- he’s not here,” he forced out through numb lips. “His body, it- it ain’t here. _Nothing_ is here.”

Rick and Aaron sped up, joining him as they looked down at the mess of walkers and guts and blood.

“I hate to say it Daryl,” Rick began hesitantly, “but are you sure? There were a lot of walkers, maybe they-“

“-nah, there’d be somethin’ right? That stupid fuckin’ coat for one!”

Daryl felt panicky, desperate, eyes trying to piece together anything that pointed at what happened to Paul’s body.

“Maybe... maybe he turned instead. Turned and just... wandered off.”

Daryl turned to look at Aaron, knowing before he even saw his far away expression that he was thinking of Eric. He was right though, that was the most likely answer.

Daryl had prepared for finding Paul’s body, no matter what was left, what state it was in. He’d expected that.

Somehow, the thought of Paul as a walker hurt worse than the thought of finding him half devoured or nothing but bloody bones. He couldn’t stand the thought of his body wandering around, empty and hungry, everything that made him _him_ having just gone, leaving nothing but a mindless corpse. Paul would walk the world aimlessly, hunting the living until his body rotted away to nothing, far away from home, lost forever.

Or worse, until he was finally put down by some random stranger, someone who wouldn’t look beyond the decaying, ravenous monster and see a person who’d been so utterly unique in all the world.

A memory came to him then, so sharp and so sudden it was like a bomb going off in his brain, like he was watching it happen all over again. Daryl pinning a walker to a tree with his bolts when he was piss drunk and angry, shooting it over and over like sport as Beth tried to make him stop.

That could have been someone’s Paul.

Daryl felt like he was going to throw up. He wanted Paul back, he wanted him living and breathing and safe. Failing that, he just wanted to put his fucking body to rest.

“I gotta find him,” he choked out, barely able to get the words out through the tightness of his throat. “Ain’t leavin’ till I do.”

Neither Rick nor Aaron said anything but Daryl knew what they were thinking; that it was pointless, that after a day and night, Paul could have wandered off anywhere, joined the giant herd never to be seen again. Logically, Daryl knew there was a good chance he’d never find him, but he couldn’t give up, not yet. He had to try.

Blinking hard to clear his stubborn tears away, Daryl focused everything he had on observing everything, taking in all the tiny details in front of him. He’d track Paul to the ends of the fucking earth if he had to. In the mess of walkers, all of them bearing the marks of Paul’s knives, Daryl began to see a trail of fresh blood. It was dried but clearly not the kind to come from a walker, not an old one at any rate. More like a newly turned one.

A little further away, Daryl spotted the bloody boot prints. He knew before he knelt down to examine them that they were Paul’s, a short line of them moving in a staggering pattern until they slowly faded out, not enough blood to print clearly anymore. He also saw more tracks, the usual confusing mess that always meant a herd.

So that was that then. Paul really was a walker.

He tried hard not to picture it in his head, tried hard not to imagine what Paul would even look like when he found him. How quickly had he died? How long did it take for him to turn? How much of him was even left as it wandered around, ravenous and empty?

He’d still been bleeding when he’d eventually turned and staggered to his feet, the blood in his veins not yet turning dark and congealed. Daryl couldn’t decide if he wanted Paul’s face to be intact, to still look like him, or not.

Daryl followed the trail of blood and the tracks of the herd, Rick and Aaron quiet on his heels. They reached the edge of the tiny town, nothing in front of them but miles of fields and a stretch of woods on one side.

It was all so big. The world was just so big and so cruel, swallowing up a single person with ease.

The grass was all trampled, no individual track clear at all, just a mess of the dead wandering forwards. There were bits of blood though, drops and smudges. Daryl assumed it was Paul, the freshest walker of the bunch, following it with gritted teeth. 

He could still hear Rick and Aaron behind him, could still feel their eyes on his back, was still fully aware of how futile they thought his search was. Logically he knew he’d probably never see anything of Paul again, but he just couldn’t give up yet.

They walked for a while, the tracks becoming nothing but a blur that he followed because it was the only thing keeping him moving. Daryl slammed to a stop not long later, mind jarring as he saw a change in the tracks that made no sense. No sense at all. A small group had broken off from the main herd. And in those tracks, were drops of blood.

Why? Why on earth would a bunch of walkers break off from the main group? It was in their nature to bunch together, to follow noise or each other, roving mindlessly from one object of interest to another and meandering aimlessly in between. That side of the herd was close to the woods, maybe the small group heard something. Daryl would have thought the rest would have too, but it was still possible.

“Daryl?”

Rick and Aaron had joined him, looking at him with concern instead of examining the damn tracks and helping. Not that either were much good at it in the first place, not like he was.

“What’s the matter Daryl?”

Daryl cleared his tight throat. “Small group broke off from the main herd. I think... I think Paul was in it. There’s blood in those tracks and he was the only- only new walker. Only one still bleeding.”

“Why would they divert though?” Aaron asked, face still stuck in deep concern whenever he looked at Daryl.

“Maybe they heard somethin’,” Rick replied, “somethin’ that sent them off course. And Daryl, there’s no guarantee Paul was even-“

“I’m followin’,” he interrupted with a growl, “if that’s where Paul even _maybe_ went, I gotta try and follow.”

Rick opened his mouth to say something else, but Daryl had no interest in listening, turning away from him and looking at the tracks. Daryl followed the trail through the trees with single minded focus, blocking all other thoughts from his head. The trail itself was still confusing, Daryl couldn’t really make heads nor tails of it, all he knew was that he had to keep following, the little drops and smears of blood the only connection he had to Paul.

The trail got even more confusing after a while, the prints just stopping, like the damn walkers had taken a break, before crossing over each other madly. He found out why a few steps later as he stumbled across the bodies of four walkers in a small ditch.

He couldn’t see them clearly through the trees, not with them all piled over each other in the undergrowth, so he quickly stalked forward, heart in his throat. Had somebody else found him before Daryl had? Had somebody else finished him off?

“Hey, slow down Daryl!”

He could hear Rick but didn’t acknowledge him as he came to the side of the small ditch, carefully skidding down the slight incline and stopping next to the bodies. With a deep breath, Daryl leant closer, dragging the first body to the side, knowing immediately from the size it wasn’t Paul.

It wasn’t until he got a good look at the walkers face that he realised something was very, very wrong.

“Rick! Aaron! Get down here!”

By the time his friends joined him, Daryl had already figured out what the fuck was going on.

“They’re humans,” he said, holding up the mask he’d pulled off the body, ”they’re humans in damn walker masks! That’s why they were whisperin’. Ain’t walkers at all.”

Rick leaned in to get a better look, taking the walker skin mask and looking it over with distaste. Sure, they’d all had to cover themselves in walker guts every now and then, but this was taking it to the extreme.

With Aaron’s help, Daryl flipped all of the bodies onto their backs. Even though he’d realised none of them were Paul the second he got closer, it was still a weird mix of emotions at seeing it confirmed, both a relief and a fresh wave of grief and confusion. Where the fuck was he?

After a closer examination, they discovered that it wasn’t just masks that the group wore, but full-body walker skins.

“Well that’s just disgusting,” Aaron said mildly, “why wear all that? Do you think it’s just these guys, or are there more out there?”

“No idea,” Rick replied, crouching to better examine the bodies, rifling through their pockets for any kind of clues, finding nothing out of the ordinary. “When we heard them, it was impossible to tell how many there were. And there were too many walkers to remember if anything stood out, we were too busy tryin’ to survive. Right now I’m more curious about how they died. Look, stab wounds.”

Daryl looked where Rick pointed, neat stab wounds in their heads and bodies.

“Someone took them out,” Daryl said, more to himself than the others, “need to take a look around, see if there’s tracks or-“

Daryl’s words ground to a halt, throat cutting off his air as he saw something catch the light underneath one of the bodies.

“Daryl?”

He lunged forward, shoving the body over and grabbing the knife that it had been lying over.

It was one of Paul’s knives.

“Oh shit. Is that Je-“

Daryl was on his feet in seconds, knife clutched tight in his hand as he frantically searched the ground for any kind of tracks, ignoring Rick and Aaron’s questions and attempts to talk to him. That was Paul’s knife. That fucker had _Paul’s knife_. But where was the other one?

There was a feeling rising in him that he didn’t want to examine, didn’t want to allow to fully take over him. If he was wrong, it’d kill him. It might still kill him anyway.

At the first sign of a trail he was off, Rick and Aaron calling behind him and trying to scramble after him. Nothing else mattered, not when there was a trail, not when he had one of Paul’s knives and the stab wounds in the bodies matched it perfectly. He moved through the trees with his heart beating so fast he almost couldn’t feel it.

He heard the tiny rustle at the last possible second, raising Paul’s knife and dodging to the side as a figure shot out lightning fast, their own knife raised ready to-

Everything stopped. Daryl’s heart, his breathing, his thoughts, the entire fucking world. Everything stopped as he stared at the frozen figure in front of him, knife still raised but everything else still and shocked.

“Daryl?”

Daryl dropped the knife at the quiet exhalation of his name, a noise that could be called a sob escaping him as his brain finally caught up to what he was seeing.

It was Paul. He was alive, alive and right in front of him, hurt and pale and exhausted but _alive_. He was the most beautiful thing Daryl had ever seen.

Daryl’s legs went weak, arms reaching out blindly to grab at the man, pulling him against his body and holding him tight. Unlike their first embrace, Paul didn’t hesitate before grabbing him back, one arm wrapping around his shoulders and burying his hand in his hair, his face pressed into Daryl’s neck.

Daryl was shaking, bones vibrating right out of his skin as he held Paul to him, half believing it was all a trick, some hallucination, his mind finally fucking snapping from grief. But Paul was right there, was solid in his arms, was breathing against his neck, exhaling words against his skin over and over in response to Daryl’s stuttering repetitions of his name.

“I’m here Daryl,” he kept muttering, voice weak but still there, still his own, “I’m real, I’m okay. I’m here. ‘M so sorry Daryl, so sorry. I’m still here.”

He could faintly hear Rick and Aaron arrive, heard their quiet exclamation of surprise at seeing Paul, but nothing else mattered, nothing registered other than the feeling of Paul in his arms. He never wanted to let go, he didn’t think he could. He pulled Paul in tighter, only to stop as Paul let out a little hiss of pain.

“Hey,” Paul said, sounding shakey, face pale and chalky as Daryl pulled back in alarm, “don’t panic, it’s not serious, just a bit hurt that’s all.”

Daryl completely ignored what Paul said, nausea and fierce worry flaring up inside him as he pulled back further to look him over, hands on Paul’s shoulders to steady his swaying figure. Now that he looked properly, Daryl could see some sort of hastily bandaged wound on his shoulder that was soaking through with blood and a nasty gash on his leg that was still bleeding slightly.

“Kept digging at it,” Paul explained as he saw Daryl look down at it, ”to keep a trail goin’... knew you’d come find me.”

“Yeah,” Daryl managed to choke out, unable to stop himself gently pulling Paul to him again, “always.”

Paul was shaking faintly as he pushed back from Daryl again, one hand coming up to cup his face.

“Listen,” he began, voice quiet and ever so slightly slurred but utterly, breathtakingly sincere, “love you okay? I love you. Last thing I was thinkin’, when I was sure I was done for. Just wanted to tell you that. Make sure you know.”

Daryl felt like the rug had been pulled from under him, like the world was shaking and he didn’t know which way was up or down. Less than five minutes ago he was a grieving, heartbroken wreck, hopelessly searching for Paul’s body and now Paul was stood in front of him, hurt but alive and telling him he loved him. It was all Daryl could do to keep breathing, gently threading a hand up into Paul’s hair, resting their foreheads together.

“Love you too,” he whispered into the space between them, voice shaking, “so much. Thought you were dead Paul. It was-“

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, so sorry. Had to get back to you.”

Daryl couldn’t speak, couldn’t say any more, throat closing up and eyes wet. He just held onto Paul for a second, focusing on his breathing, on the feel of him. They needed to get him back home, get him fixed up, but Daryl just needed a second before he could move. There was still a tiny part of him terrified that any sudden movement would break the hallucination, would reveal him standing alone and lost and broken in the middle of the trees.

“Oh!” Paul pulled back again, expression urgent, like he’d just remembered something very important. “They’re not walkers! They’re people, in walker skins and-“

“We know Paul, ‘s okay, we saw the bodies-“

“No, listen, there’s one tied up a little ways behind me. One of the group that captured me and tried to drag me back for information.”

Rage swelled up in Daryl, fingers twitching to bury his knife in their skull for nearly tearing Paul out of his life forever. For hurting him and keeping him from Daryl.

“No don’t, don’t hurt her. She’s just a kid, it wasn’t her fault. Had to knock her out. Just bring her back with us okay?”

Daryl just nodded, too focused on Paul’s pale face and the obvious effort with which he was holding himself up to argue. “Yeah fine, just come on. Need to get you back, get you help. Fuck Paul, don’t- don’t do that to me again.”

Paul leant into his side as Daryl braced him, nodding his head for Rick to come over.

“I’m here Daryl. Not going anywhere.”

 

*break*

 

They’d quickly given Rick and Aaron the information about the kid and left them to it, Daryl helping an exhausted Paul all the way back to the truck. The whole slow, staggering walk, he couldn’t stop turning his head to look at Paul, couldn’t stop himself pulling him into his side tighter, constantly testing he was real. Each time, Paul just gripped him back too with total understanding.

As they staggered through the tiny town, both of them slowed to a stop and stared at the blood and guts stained corner of the building. The place where in some much crueler universe, Paul might really have died. Daryl squeezed Paul again, gently leading him away, insides lighting up with warmth and throat closing up as Paul just smiled at him.

God, Daryl thought he’d never see that smile again, never see him at all. It was more than his over worked mind could handle. Maybe it was payback, maybe a life of so much bad, so much hurt and pain, was all to balance out this one moment, for giving him Paul back.

If that was the case, Daryl could safely say it was all worth it, a hundred times over.

After they finally reached the truck, Daryl got Paul settled in the bed of it, searching through his bag he’d left in there for any kind of first aid gear. Daryl sighed and scrubbed a rough hand over his face before turning back to face Paul.

“Ain’t got no first aid shit,” he admitted, voice low, “didn’t pack any before I left. Didn’t- didn’t see no point.”

A hand grabbed his and when he met Paul’s eye, he knew he understood the meaning behind that. There was no point in bringing first aid stuff for himself if he didn’t rightly care what happened to him.

Daryl cleared his throat, handing Paul the bottle of water he did bother to pack, settling back on his haunches. Paul took it gratefully, chugging half of it in one go before he remembered to slow down so he wasn’t sick. He’d need food too after not eating for days, no wonder he looked so damn bad.

“Hey, it’s okay Daryl,” he said gently, probably picking up everything Daryl was thinking like it was written across his damn face, “I’m here. Gonna be fine okay? Promise. Just a little banged up right now.”

It was physically impossible for Daryl to resist leaning forward to wrap his arms around Paul’s shoulders, burying his face in the little stretch of exposed skin between his neck and uninjured shoulder. Paul said nothing, just brought one hand up to stroke across his back and through his hair, every breath in and out of his lungs a blessing to Daryl.

He didn’t move until he heard Rick and Aaron approach, finally moving back to sit on his ass opposite Paul. Aaron and Rick had a young girl hanging limp between them, her body covered in a walker skin but her face free of the mask. They put her in the back seat of the truck and shut the door, Rick keeping guard with a nod to Daryl and a look in his eyes that said so much. Aaron came over to talk to Paul, handing over his first aid kit with a smile at them both and a promise to get them back to Hilltop in no time.

They set off and Daryl simply could not stop staring. Paul bandaged the wound on his leg enough to last till Hilltop but left the shoulder one alone, wincing minutely whenever he moved it too much. Every single flicker of pain on his face nearly sent Daryl into a meltdown, but it was still better than what he’d expected this trip home to be like.

His eyes drifted over to the tarp Paul was leaning against and thought about the folded cloth in Aaron’s bag. Daryl thought he’d be making the trip home with whatever was left of Paul wrapped up in those damn things, bloody and broken and dead. He never expected to be sat opposite him, to watch him breathe and blink and move, to see him so beautifully _alive_. His throat closed up and he had to rub his hand over his eyes.

“You doing okay Daryl?”

Daryl choked out a short, wet laugh. “Still ain’t sure this is real if ‘m honest.”

“Well my shoulder and leg hurts like a bitch, I’m exhausted and I could eat a horse, so I’m _fairly_ sure I’m not a hallucination.”

Daryl dropped his hand from his eyes and looked at Paul, a small grin he never thought he’d feel again creeping onto his face. “Ain’t that exactly what a hallucination would say?”

Paul let out a sudden bark of a laugh and it was the most beautiful sound Daryl had ever heard.

“Fuck I thought I’d lost ya,” Daryl breathed out, chest constricting again as Paul’s smile dimmed.

“Come here,” he said, moving to the side to leave some space against the tarp. Daryl didn’t hesitate, just moved over and sat next to him, gripping Paul’s hand tight when it slipped into Daryl’s.

“Thought I’d lost you too,” Paul said after a moment, “thought I’d die right there and miss out on... on _everything_. Everything I wanted with you. Thought I’d waited too long. When the dead surrounded me, the only thing I was thinking about was you.”

Daryl squeezed his hand tighter as he tried to breathe. “Worst thing I ever felt was when Rick came back alone,” he muttered, “when he said you was dead. Never felt anythin’ like it. Wanted to come find ya, find your... your _body_ , right then. Maggie made me stay till mornin’. Worst night of my life.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re here now, livin’. ‘S all that matters to me.”

Paul was quiet for a second before letting out a weak little laugh. “Huh,” he said, “one more day missing and I’d have really lived up to my nickname.”

It took a second for it to click but when it did, Daryl couldn’t help but roll his eyes, elbowing Paul gently in the side. “Fuckin’ idiot. Good lord.”

“You can just call me Paul, it’s fine.”

“Yeah, ya can get out and walk home now.”

Paul laughed again, tinted with exhaustion but so damn beautiful and it was the lightest Daryl had felt since Rick turned up at Hilltop. He never thought he’d get to feel like this again, to sit next to Paul and just talk shit, to know he was safe and alive and... his.

Paul dropped his head on Daryl’s shoulder, slumping into him further. “Damn I’m tired,” he muttered.

It was strange how just that one simple thing made the tears start up again. “‘S fine Paul,” he choked out, “you just sleep till we get back. I got ya.”

The rest of the trip home passed in a daze of disbelief and utter, bone deep gratitude as Paul dozed on his shoulder.

The gates of Hilltop finally come into sight as the setting sun started to turn the world around them warm golds and reds. Paul reluctantly woke up when Daryl gently nudged him and said his name, raising his head and smiling at the sight of Hilltop in front of them.

“Wasn’t sure I’d get to see this place again,” he admitted, squeezing Daryl’s hand still clutched tight in his.

They reached the gate and pulled to a stop as Eduardo looked over to verify who they were. He looked uncharacteristically subdued until his eyes landed on the truck bed, going comically still with wide eyes as he saw Paul sitting up, smiling and alive, shooting him a cheeky little wave. Eduardo’s face broke into a huge grin as he hollered over his shoulder for someone to get Maggie, the gate opening to let them in.

Paul was smiling as they entered Hilltop, Rick stopping the car as soon as they were inside, the gate shutting behind them. Daryl jumped out of the truck bed and helped Paul out, gasps of joy and calls of his name coming from the people close enough to see.

“Move!”

They heard Maggie before they saw her, shouting for the crowd separating her from the truck to get out of her way. The people moved and Daryl saw the exact moment she caught sight of Paul.

A broken noise left Maggie, her legs going weak for a second before she was running, reaching Paul and pulling him into a hug, arms clutching him as she sobbed into his neck. He wrapped his uninjured arm around her and whispered soothing things to her, stroking her back, looking shocked and overwhelmed at the reaction his resurrection was having on everyone. Maybe the stupid prick would finally realise how loved he was now.

As much as he wanted to keep at least one hand and both eyes on Paul at all times, still not entirely convinced this wasn’t some dream, Daryl made himself step back, letting Maggie take the time she needed. God knows if someone tried to tear Paul from his arms when he’d first found him, they’d be stone cold dead.

He leant back against the truck bed and watched Maggie continue to hug Paul, more of Hilltop gathering round to see he was alive for themselves and tell him how glad they were he was okay. Daryl wasn’t alone for long, Rick reappearing and joining him.

“Got the girl locked up somewhere?” he asked, not taking his eyes of Paul and still lacking too many fucks to give over her and the rest of the walker skin covered freaks right now.

“Yeah, Aaron’s watching her now. We need to get some answers about what the hell that was out there once she stops playing unconscious. Need to talk to Jesus too, when he’s up for it.”

Daryl just nodded, getting antsy with the urge to tell everyone to fuck off so he could get Paul to the medical trailer. Under the perplexed joy at how everyone was acting towards him, Daryl could clearly see the exhaustion and pain showing through more and more. He had three more minutes, then Daryl was dragging his ass to Siddiq.

He felt Rick settle next to him against the truck and gently nudge his arm.

“Real happy for you ya know? That you found him. You deserve it, after everythin’.”

Daryl felt his throat get tight again, unbelievable happiness and relief burning in his chest. He didn’t have the words to describe how fucking glad he was he’d found Paul too, not words he could say to Rick at least, so he just cleared his throat and blinked hard, nudging Rick right back. 

“Maybe there was somethin’ to your Law of Averages bullshit after all.”

 

———

 

It took longer than three minutes to drag Paul away from his adoring crowd and bundle him into the medical trailer, but Daryl managed it, standing sentry as Paul’s shoulder and leg were cleaned and stitched.

He nearly lost his shit when he first saw the shoulder wound. Fucking idiot didn’t say it was a damn stab wound, and a pretty nasty one going by Siddiq’s reaction and the antibiotics he was immediately started on. Paul even had the cheek to drowsily tell Daryl they matched now with a fucking goofy grin. 

Rick and Maggie joined them not long after, the latters face splotchy from crying, still looking faintly dumbstruck as she saw Paul sitting there. He gave them a quick rundown of what happened then, Daryl still feeling utter terror as Paul described what happened.

The humans in walker skins had been leading the herd apparently, that’s why they’d never managed to lose them, and as the dead surrounded Paul, they were there. They’d stabbed him in the shoulder and sliced his leg, Paul sure he’d been bitten until he saw the knife, fighting even harder to escape the horde after that. They managed to overpower him and dragged him off, keeping him in the middle of their group so the dead wouldn’t notice him. Paul had tried to talk to them, to figure out who they were and what they wanted but they wouldn’t answer.

It was Lydia who did in the end, the girl they’d brought back with them, telling Paul that they wanted him for information on his group. She said they were taking him back to their territory and warned him to tell their leader what he knew. He wouldn’t like what happened to him if he didn’t.

Paul knew he needed to escape but couldn’t do it whilst surrounded by the real walkers, so he bided his time, making sure he kept his thigh wound bleeding just enough to make a trail. It still warmed Daryl that Paul knew he’d come after him, even if it was only his body he was looking for.

Paul didn’t get his chance until they’d split off from the herd and stopped for the night. They’d tied him up and left him under guard in the ditch below them. Daryl smirked when Paul said that, knowing there wasn’t a knot that Paul couldn’t find some way out of. They never lit a fire, so he waited until the night was at its darkest, slipped his ropes, stuffed them in his pocket and took out his guard, drawing the others down and taking them out too.

The girl ran during the fight and Paul knew he couldn’t let her get away. He’d never intended to do anything but capture her in the first place, she was far too valuable for information and he had a bad feeling about the group, especial since it seemed like they weren’t some small group of rabid survivors, but a community with leaders and territory.

Paul tracked and chased her until he finally got the drop on her, tying her up and leading her back the way they’d come, knowing he needed to get back to the town where he’d been taken. He’d promised not to hurt her and that no one from his group would either. He sounded protective of her, if still rightly suspicious, she was only a kid after all, one that must have been conditioned to believe that wearing walker skins was the only way to survive. He said she wasn’t dangerous at the very least, going with him without a fight after that.

They kept moving until he couldn’t anymore, stopping for a break and tying her up. Then he’d heard movement up ahead and was sure it was more of the walker skin wearing assholes, having to knock Lydia out when she started to struggle and shout through her gag.

He’d gone to check it out and the rest was history, finding Daryl instead. Or as he’d put it with a grin, “my guardian angel.”

Daryl chased Rick and Maggie off after that, they could get more damn information later or go bother the girl. Once Paul had the final all clear from Siddiq, Daryl ushered him into the trailer, effectively scaring off any more off his excited fan base with a few choice glares. He was also fully aware that the hand he kept on Paul’s back was not, in fact, to help the other man walk but more to try and somewhat settle the anxious energy still overflowing inside himself. He was also grateful Paul somehow understood this and allowed it with nothing more than a soft smile.

When they finally reached and entered their trailer, the door closing behind them, it felt to Daryl like something out of a dream. He wasn’t even sure this morning if he’d ever be able to come back here again, all of the memories and little reminders of Paul killing him every time he saw them. Daryl never imagined that he’d be able to bring Paul back home where he belonged, to see him move through the trailer looking both mildly disbelieving and deeply content.

Shaking himself out of his daze, Daryl awkwardly cleared his throat. “Err, you go on and get washed up. I’ll go get ya some dinner.”

Paul turned to him with a smile. “You don’t have to fuss over me you know?”

“Yeah I know,” he muttered around the thumb nail he was bitting on, “just wanna.”

Paul’s fond look melted his insides, so Daryl had to turn around and leave before he found himself grabbing Paul and not letting him go. He shut the door of the trailer behind him, heading towards the kitchens of Barrington House. Normally the cooks would defend their space and cooking schedules with iron fists, but he was sure he could convince them to give up a little something early.

As it turned out, he had to stop them from making Paul a three course meal with fucking wine to wash it down. Even Martha, the old battleaxe, had tears in her eyes as she pulled Daryl into a tight hug before handing him two bowls of chicken and vegetable soup. She even wrapped up a few cookies in a scrap of cloth and slid them into the pocket of his vest, telling him to pass on their love to Jesus.

By the time he left the kitchens and headed back to the trailer, the sun had finally set, the night air cool and fresh as little lights popped up around Hilltop. The whole world felt complete again. With a bit of juggling, he was able to open the door, heart skipping a fucking beat at what he saw.

His brain knew Paul was alive, it really did, but still every time Daryl saw him it made his chest seize up. Seeing Paul sat reading at the table in sweatpants and one of Daryl’s big, long sleeved flannels, was almost too much for him. Paul looked up with a soft, sleepy smile that sharpened to a grin as he noticed what Daryl was staring at.

“Hey, don’t think I didn’t notice you stole my favourite shirt. This is only fair really.”

Daryl felt his face heat up but didn’t say anything, just grumbled as he set the bowls and cookies down on the table, grabbing spoons from the draw and two bottles of water. When he finally sat down and looked at Paul, he saw him looking at him with that damn expression that made his stomach swoop.

“Stop starin’ and eat your damn dinner,” he grumbled, face burning hotter.

Paul chuckled warmly but did just that, digging into his soup with gusto. Daryl found himself slightly regretting he hadn’t let the cooks make more, Paul polishing off his bowl in no time at all and wolfing half of the cookies, only hesitating a second before accepting the rest of them that Daryl pushed on him.

Paul looked ready to fall asleep on the table by the time they’d both finished, face still too pale for Daryl’s liking and eyes falling half shut.

“Come on,” he says, standing up and gently prodding Paul, “get some sleep. Ya need it.”

Paul didn’t argue, just shoved himself up from his slump and half limped over to his bed, the adrenaline obviously having left, landing him in a world of hurt. Those damn assholes should’ve died slower and a hell of a lot messier than they did for hurting Paul, Daryl wanted to tear them apart with his bare hands.

Paul slumped down on his bed, carefully easing himself onto his back and under the covers, letting out a muted groan as he sank into the mattress.

Daryl shuffled awkwardly for a moment, before he quietly broke the silence. “Just gonna go get cleaned up. Get some sleep.”

He turned and grabbed his sweatpants and a top, retreating into the bathroom. He showered quick, still ridiculously anxious if he couldn’t see Paul, like he’d disappear if he looked away too long. Once he’d dried off and changed, he snuck back out of the bathroom as quietly as possible, hoping Paul was too tired to wake up like he usually did.

Daryl should sleep, he knew he should, but the idea of wasting even just a few hours unconscious when Paul was right there, safe and alive in front of him after he thought he’d never see him again, just seemed impossible. In the end, he didn’t even make himself try, he just quietly and carefully sat at the kitchen table, happy just to hear Paul breathe in the darkness, to be able to faintly see him safe in bed under a blanket, not cold and dead under dirt.

“I can’t sleep with you staring at me you know?”

Daryl was grateful for the darkness as he felt his face heat up, shuffling awkwardly. “Sorry, just wanted to- don’t matter, I’ll move.”

He stood up to retreat to his couch, feeling nervous and stupid.

“Or, if you want... you could just come lie down with me?”

Daryl’s stomach turned over as his body froze. Stubborn old parts of himself made him hesitate, fear and anxiety gluing his mouth shut.

“You don’t have to-“

“Nah, I want to,” he blurted out, feeling lighter the second he did. Because there was nothing he wanted more than to do just that, to curl up in bed next to Paul and be able to feel him breathe, to know he was right there and that they were together. Even the thought was intoxicating.

They’d both hesitated far too much and Daryl could have lost him for good. He certainly wasn’t going to waste any more time when what he wanted was right in front of him.

With a truly shocking lack of grace that at least got a laugh out of Paul, Daryl finally got settled on Paul’s uninjured side, pulling the covers over them both and staring at the ceiling, not entirely sure what to do next. It still didn’t feel right yet, his stomach was still in knots, body twitchy and awkward. He’d never done this before. Sure, he’d ended up lying next to nearly every member of his family at some point or another, but this was different.

He rolled onto his side to look at Paul, the other man turning his head to stare right back.

“Slept here last night,” he quietly admitted, “Maggie too, after she came an’ found me. Wanted to be close to ya, I guess.”

Paul reached his hand out and took hold of Daryl’s squeezing it gently.

“Well, you’re entirely too far away now. Come here.”

He gently tugged Daryl’s hand until he ended up sprawled on Paul, head on his chest and Paul’s uninjured arm wrapped around his shoulders. Daryl could hear Paul’s heartbeat, strong and steady beneath his head, could feel his chest rise and fall with each breath. He exhaled shakily and finally felt peace, finally felt everything settle into place as Paul kissed the top of his head.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you’d gone through my sketchbook too,” Paul muttered sleepily, making Daryl smile, “you’re on washing up duty for a week now.”

“Can live with that.”

They were both quiet for a moment after that, sinking into each other’s embrace and relaxing into total contentment. 

“Love you Daryl.”

“Love ya too. Get some sleep.”

Turns out there was no need to talk in the end, no need for awkward stumbling admissions of feelings. They were both already there. They were alive and together, and Daryl planned to make sure it stayed that way for a long time to come.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew!! I swear to God, this fic almost killed me! So sorry for the longer than anticipated wait!! Life man, what can ya do. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the final chapter!! Thank you so much for reading, commenting and leaving kudos! Please drop me one last comment, they fuel me tbh. 
> 
> Special thanks to Syrabylene for being a constant cheerleader as I wrote this and just a generally lovely person! 
> 
> Thanks again everyone! Xxxx

**Author's Note:**

> So, don’t kill me (yet) there is 3 chapters of this fic...
> 
> I really was going to finish and post my sweet, fluffy Paul Rovia Deserves Better fic before... this, but it just wouldn’t leave me alone! Had to get this posted before my brain could shift gears. 
> 
> I tried to fit in a bunch of the new info we have for this season as well as some spoilers into this. I know the run is a bit off, as it looks like Maggie will be going too, but I just couldn’t imagine why on earth she’d risk going into the city so soon after having Hershel. So yeah, I kind of did my own thing with it.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it! Please fuel me by leaving a comment, they really do mean the entire world to me! I’ll probably post my little fic next and then the next chapter after that :) i’ll do my best to not leave you waiting too long! Xxxx
> 
> P.s special shoutout to Syrabylene for giving me so much support and being my cheerleader <3


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